


Wind and Mystery

by thebadwolf



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Consensual spanking, Coping, Drug Use, Gaslighting, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, PTSD Sherlock, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prescription Drug Abuse, Recovery, Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, Spanking, Underage Rape/Non-con, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-03-17 10:05:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 29,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13656765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebadwolf/pseuds/thebadwolf
Summary: When Sherlock Holmes was a teenager Greg Lestrade sexually assaulted him. Lestrade regretted it right away and the two pretended it never happened. When evidence of the assault is turned into the police they both have to face the outcome.Lestrade has to pay the price for his crime and Sherlock has to face how badly the event damaged him. Of course, he has John to help him recover. (slow developing romance)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Apprilcott](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apprilcott/gifts).



Greg Lestrade was a good man. At least he thought he was and he tried to be. There were things in his life that caused him stress. Sherlock Holmes was his Achilles’ heel. That man had caused him so much stress and frustration over the years. Of course, he had been his savior in a lot of ways. He owed him so much. They had solved so many cases together and saved many lives.

Greg had only made one serious mistake in his life and it haunted him every day.

He hoped he would wake up one day without thinking about it but maybe he didn’t deserve that. Maybe he deserved to be haunted by his guilt.

It usually didn’t eat at his brain so much but that day it was consuming his every thought.

After a rather long day at the Yard, he returned to his empty and quiet apartment. He picked up the post before flopping down on the couch. He flicked his fingers over each item. A bill, doctor’s appointment reminder, and a package.

Greg set the other things aside and looked at the package. It was a simple thick yellow envelope with no return address on it. He looked it over before carefully opening it. His worries about something dangerous being inside were dismissed when he saw the edge of a VHS tape. He removed the tape fully from the package before looking it over.

It was a simple black tape with no labeling of any kind of in it. Greg sighed putting the tape in his VCR. Despite the move forward in technology he still held onto the VHS player. A lot of evidence still came in on tapes and it was a good idea to have one of the players.

He sat back on the couch and stared at the telly.

A small office came into view. An office that Lestrade recognized. Panic started to grip him. This couldn’t be what he thought it was.

_A younger Lestrade walked into the room dragging a handcuffed teenage Sherlock behind him._

_“Let me go!” Sherlock cried as Lestrade slammed the door behind them._

_“Not until I know who you are and what you were doing there,” Lestrade said shoving Sherlock into an empty seat. “How did you know all that stuff about me?”_

_“I told you,” Sherlock snapped trying to get comfortable with his hands handcuffed behind his back. “I can read you like a book. People have no idea what they give away by just existing.”_

_“I must admit you were right …Sherlock was it?” Lestrade leaning against the desk in the room. “Can you do that with anyone and anything?”_

_“Mostly,” Sherlock said. “I’m good at what I do.”_

_“You might be, but I can’t have you at crime scenes,” Greg said shaking his head. “Go to school and become a cop. We could use a man like you.”_

_“No thank you,” Sherlock said a snort. “I don’t want to get paid or anything for it I just want to solve the crimes.”_

_“Why?” Greg asked surprised by the answer._

_“It helps keep me busy,” was Sherlock’s only answer._

_“I’m sorry,” Lestrade said. “That’s the rules. I can’t have a kid running around crime scenes. I’ll uncuff you and send you on your way but if I see you around another murder scene I’ll book you for suspicious activity.”_

_Lestrade retrieved the key from his pocket and reached to unlock the cuff but stopped before he put the key in. This kid seemed desperate to help solves crimes. Lestrade didn’t really understand why but perhaps he could use that. He put the key in his pocket and backed up._

_“Maybe we can work something out,” Lestrade said. “You want something from me. Maybe there is something you can give me.”_

_“Like what?” Sherlock asked giving the officer a confused look._

_Clearly, this boy had no idea what he was talking about._

_“I have a wife, but we have issues,” Greg said. “I’ll let you have access to have any crime scene you want but you have to be willing to do whatever sexual acts I want with me whenever I say.”_

_Sherlock didn’t seem to like that idea. He shook his head and looked away from the cop._

_“You sure?” he asked. “This is the only chance you’re going to get.”_

_The teenager suddenly closed his eyes and let his head hang. Even though he hadn’t said anything Lestrade knew the answer. After a moment that messy head of curls went up and down._

_“Good,” Lestrade said grabbing the boy by the shoulder. “That’s start with a good hard spanking. That’s what bad boys get when they go places they aren’t supposed to.”_

_Lestrade sat down in the chair and flipped Sherlock over his lap._

Lestrade grabbed the remote and pushed the power button. The TV and VCR turned off. The detective jumped to feet and ripped the tape out of the player. He couldn’t believe the tape existed. Who had it all those years and why were they sending it to him now? Why wait?

He couldn’t watch it anymore and he wasn’t going to let it get seen by anyone else.

Greg threw the tape to the floor and started to stomp on it. Memories of that night flooded his head as bits of plastic flew across the carpet.

_Young Sherlock over his lap handcuffed. He’d removed his belt and beat the youth until he was a shaking sobbing mess._

That was bad enough but then he had to it further.

_Sherlock’s trousers and pants around his ankles. Lestrade wetted one of his fingers in his mouth. A single finger pushing its way inside the underage boy._

Then it stopped. He realized the horrible thing he was doing and had released the boy. He apologized repeatedly. He told him he would never do anything to him like that again and he understood if he was going to report it. To his surprise, Sherlock didn’t report it and never brought it up.  They both pretended it never happened.

Lestrade gathered the remains of the tape and dumped them in the trash. He was shaking by the time he sat down again. All he could do was hope whoever sent the tape was done and he wouldn’t hear from them again.


	2. Chapter 2

Wow! I didn’t expect so much love right away. I’m glad so many people like this. I wasn’t sure it would get much love. When I’m writing my stories, I don’t plan them all the way out. I have a general idea of where I’m going with it but that’s about it. I’m always open to suggestions and ideas.

++

The next few days were hell for Lestrade. Every day he returned home to find a new tape. The first time he watched the first few seconds to make sure it was the same thing. After that, he stopped watching them. He smashed them as soon as they arrived.

By the fourth day, he was losing his mind. What was he supposed to do? What did they want from him?

He decided to call in sick. He couldn’t look at Sherlock again.  If he did he was going to start screaming the guilt of his crime. Was that what this person wanted?

Lestrade couldn’t do that. If he did his whole life was over. He had committed a sexual crime against a minor. If he was found guilty of that he was a sex offender. He would lose his job and risk going to prison. Didn’t he deserve that punishment? No. He didn’t. He had gotten out of control with Sherlock. He had hurt the boy, but it wasn’t like he had raped him. He would never do something like that.

He sighed before lying down in bed with a beer. He didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to drink and sleep.

==

Megan Durhum sighed as she started digging through her mail. She’d had a very interesting morning. Sherlock had shown up early that morning with John in tow. He wasn’t very happy when he found out Lestrade wasn’t there. Greg was usually the one who made sure Sherlock had a case to work on. Megan tried to find him something, but nothing suited his needs. She’d gotten a bit grumpy with him at that point.

Sherlock then proceeded to tell everyone she was pregnant and that the hormones were making her grumpy. It was nothing to be ashamed of, but she wasn’t ready to tell everyone yet. Everyone knew she had been trying for a long time and she was worried people would make a big deal out of it.

As she flipped through the mail a yellow envelope caught her eye. She flipped it over looking at it. There was no return address. That usually meant someone wanted to turn in evidence without revealing who they were.

Megan opened the envelope and out fell a VHS tape and a folded piece of paper. She picked up the paper and flipped it open.

_This tape is evidence of a crime that happened years ago. I found it recently and thought it was only right to turn it in. I hope the man in the video is brought to justice._

Megan picked up the tape and slipped into the VCR player that sat next to the small tv in her office. After only watching it a few minutes she turned took the tape out of the player. She had to show this to someone who dealt with sexual assault. They had a very serious problem to deal with.

\--

Sherlock growled in frustration as he stomped around the flat. He bored and alone. The two things together could be very a dangerous combo. John had to go to work and Molly had taken Rosie for the night.

His heart jumped a little when he heard someone at the front door. A client judging by the unsure and nervous knock. Perhaps it would be something that would keep him busy a few minutes. He raced down to the front door and opened it.

“Hello,” a short man at the door said. “I’m Alan Graham. I’m with the-“

“Police of course,” Sherlock said. “Your shoes give you away. You’re also carrying a bag with Scotland Yard written on it. I can only see part of the words but it’s easy to fill in the rest. What can I do for you?”

“I needed to speak to you,” Alan said trying not to be put off by Sherlock. “I’m with the rape and sexual assault department.”

The fact the man was from that department didn’t surprise Sherlock. His nervous demeanor gave that away, but he was surprised someone from that department was knocking on his door. It had never happened before.

“You handle a very sensitive subject,” Sherlock said. “It makes you a bit jumpy. What do you want with me?”

“Some evidence has become known that indicates you were the victim of a crime,” Alan explained. “I just needed to go over it with you.”

He was a victim of a crime and a sex crime at that? That was the first that Sherlock had heard of it.

“Come upstairs,” Sherlock nodding to the stairs. “We’ll discuss this.”

Alan closed the door behind him before he followed up the stairs.

Sherlock sat down in his chair and waved for Alan to sit down. The officer sat down in John’s chair and sat his bag down on the floor.  

“A tape was sent into Scotland Yard,” Alan explained. “It seems to contain images of you and a police officer engaged in some questionable acts.”

That jogged Sherlock’s memory. A locked away memory that he thought was dead and buried. The day he met Lestrade. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.

“A tape?” Sherlock said suddenly understanding what the officer was saying.

“Yes,” Alan said removing a folder from the bag. “I have a few screenshots here. Nothing explicit of course. I just need to verify that’s you in the pictures.”

He held the folder out to Sherlock. He looked at the yellow folder with disgust. He didn’t want to see pictures from that day. He just wanted to keep pretending it never happened.

“I can understand if you don’t want to see them,” Alan said pulling the folder back towards him.

“Don’t be stupid,” Sherlock yanking the folder out of his hands.

Sherlock opened the folder and looked down at the sheets of paper inside. There were two pictures of him as a teenager and younger Lestrade. Sherlock frowned looking at the picture. He remembered that day all too well.

He was sixteen at the time. It was his first year at Uni and he was getting an early start in a chemistry program. Lestrade had caught him snooping around a crime scene. Sherlock thought he was getting arrested when he was pulled into that teacher’s office.

Then Lestrade made him a deal he couldn’t turn down.

Of course, Sherlock regretted it the second Lestrade started hitting him with the belt. Sherlock had been on the receiving end of a few spankings when he was young but nothing like the one that was laid on him that day. Lestrade had hit him without mercy and it was all the boy could do to stop from crying out. By the end of it, he was sobbing and shaky like a leaf.

Then the man began to lower his jeans…

“Mr. Holmes,” Alan said pulling Sherlock out of his thoughts.

“It’s me,” Sherlock said handing the folder back. “And I’m sure you know who the officer is.”

“We do,” Alan said. “I wanted to speak to you about this in person right away. I wanted you to know what was going on.”

“You’re going to arrest him,” Sherlock said matter of factly.

“Of course,” Alan said putting the folder away. “What he did was a crime and very serious one for a police officer.”

Sherlock shook his head. This whole thing was ridiculous. It was years ago. What was the point in punishing him for it now? They had managed to put it behind them and become friends. Sherlock doubted Lestrade even remembered it. He hadn’t until Alan had brought it up.

“I consented,” Sherlock said. “I remember agreeing.”

“Yes, you did,” Alan said nodding. “But according to the law at the time you couldn’t consent to a sexual act with a man until you were eighteen. At the very least Lestrade was abusing his power to mess around with a minor.”

“This is insane,” the consulting detective snapped. “I have connections. This will never see a court of law.”

“I have permission to arrest him,” Alan explained. “The arrest warrant is ready. I know he’s your friend. He was my friend too. I hate to see this happen, but I will not cover up for a bad cop.”

“Go then,” Sherlock said waving him off. “I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but you aren’t. He’s a good man. You lock him up and you’re losing a good cop.”

“I’m sorry,” he said standing up. “I know this has to be hard for you.”

Sherlock wasn’t interested in talking to the man anymore. He had heard enough. Alan seemed to get the drift and left the room without another word.

He curled up in his seat and put his head on his knees. What was he doing to do? Even if he got the case thrown out people would still remember it. The people who already knew would never look at him or Lestrade the same again. No matter what he did things were never going to be the same.


	3. Chapter 3

Greg gave a grunt as he was yanked out of his sleep. He just wanted to sleep forever and forget everything that was happening. If he received another one of those tapes in the post, he was going to lose his mind.

It took him a minute to realize what had woken him up. Someone was knocking rather loudly on his front door. A glance at his alarm clock told him it was nearly one in the morning. God, he hoped it wasn’t Sherlock looking for something to do. He was starting to feel a little better, but he wasn’t ready to face the man.

“I’m coming!” he shouted climbing out of bed.

The detective grumbled to himself as he headed for the front door. The knocking didn’t stop. It had to be Sherlock. He was the only person Greg knew that knocked that way. He let out a frustrated sigh as he opened the door.

To his surprise, it wasn’t Sherlock. It was fellow officers, Alan and Anderson. They were both looking at him with angry and disgusted looks.

“Hello,” Greg said confused by their presences. “What are you doing here?”

“We know about what you did,” Anderson said. “I can’t believe you would do such a thing. What the hell were you thinking?”

“Anderson,” Alan said. “Take it easy. We’re going to handle this.”

Panic gripped Greg as the two men talked. What were they talking about? There was no way they could know about the tape unless... Oh no. Had the same person who sent it to him sent it to Scotland Yard? It made sense that they might do that.

“You know why we’re here don’t you?” Alan questioned.

“I’m not sure,” Greg said carefully.

There was no reason to admit to something they didn’t know about yet.

“We received a tape in the mail,” Alan explained. “It shows you engaging in…”

“Stop sugar coating it,” Anderson said. “He assaulted Sherlock.”

“Perhaps you should get your shoes and coat on,” Alan said ignoring Anderson’s outburst. “I’d rather us do this the easy way.”

Greg couldn’t believe this was happening. He knew there was no statute of limitations on sexual crimes, but he never expected it to come up. After all, Sherlock seemed to move on fairly well. It was almost as if it never happened. Sometimes Greg did think about it.

Whenever Sherlock acted naïve or innocent he remembered the teenager he’d taken advantage of and guilt would fill him. Did Sherlock ever think about it?

As he stood in his sitting room he thought of his options. He could run the other way and escape through his bedroom window. But where would he go? Mycroft? He wasn’t going to help in this case. His only reasonable option was to go quietly. Maybe he could avoid prison time if he fully cooperated.

“Give me a minute,” Greg said. “Come on in. I don’t really want the neighbors hearing this.”

Greg walked away from the door and headed to the bedroom.

Anderson and Alan walked into the room closing the front door behind him. 

“Go watch him,” Alan said. “I get the feeling he’s thinking about running.”

“No problem,” Anderson said before following after Lestrade.

++

_Sherlock didn’t know what to think as the officer undid the handcuffs. What had just happened? He was still shaking from the shock of it._

_“I’m so sorry,” Lestrade said helping Sherlock re-dress. “I have no idea what I was thinking. I just-“_

_“It’s all right,” the teenager said even though he knew it wasn’t._

_“No,” the older man said shaking his head. “Do you want to talk to someone? I’d understand. I was out of line there.”_

_What was he saying? Did he WANT him to turn him in? Sherlock couldn’t believe that. No one wanted to be arrested for assaulting a minor. Would Lestrade admit to it if Sherlock filed a report or would the paperwork just go missing?_

_“We had an agreement,” Sherlock said trying to change the subject. “I can have access to crime scenes, right?”_

_“Of course,” Lestrade said nodding. “You never have to do that again. I swear it to it.”_

_“I have to go,” he said already headed for to the door. “I have class.”_

_That was a lie. Sherlock just wanted to get far away from him as fast as possible._

_“Alright,” Lestrade said. “Give me a call at Scotland Yard when you get a chance. Ask for Greg Lestrade.”_

_Sherlock nodded. He knew that despite everything he would be calling him. The teenager opened the door and walked out of the room without another word. He walked down the hall and picked up his disregarded backpack. He could still several police officers standing down the hall. They didn’t pay him any attention as he picked up his belongings._

_He walked out of the school and onto the grounds. He needed a smoke. Sherlock crossed across the courtyard to a small water fountain. No one ever seemed to go over there. He wouldn’t be disturbed. It was the perfect place to spend a little time alone._

_The teenager’s hands were trembling as he removed his cigarettes and lighter from his bag. He checked over his shoulder once more to make sure no one was watching him before lighting one up. As the smoke filled his lungs he felt his body begin to calm.  Clearer thoughts filled his mind._

_He couldn’t tell anyone. The police wouldn’t believe him without Lestrade confessing to it and Sherlock couldn’t stand to be called a liar about something that he knew happened. His parents would believe him. Yet, he didn’t want them to find out. What if they blamed the school? They might yank him out of the school. Then, his future would be messed up._

_Sherlock leaned over to look at the water in the fountain. He could see his reflection in the crystal-clear water. His face was red, and his eyes were puffy from crying. He quickly looked away from the water. He didn’t want to see his face._

_It was bad enough he couldn’t escape the moist feeling inside of him. He could still feel_ where _Lestrade had pushed a wet finger inside of him. It hadn’t hurt but it felt uncomfortable and foreign prodding his insides._

_Sherlock felt a shiver go up to his back as realization was started to sink in. He’d had his first sexual experience. Granted it wasn’t much of one but it was still his first. He’d been handcuffed and molested by a stranger._

_**No.** It didn’t count. He wouldn’t allow it to count._

++

Sherlock awoke with a start. Sweet was dripping down his face despite the coolness of his bedroom. His bedroom. He quickly reached over and flicked his lamp on. His room was instantly illuminated.

Yes. He was in his bedroom. **He was safe**. For a second, he believed he was back there, in that courtyard trying to figure out what he was going to do.

Knocking on his bedroom door yanked him out of his thoughts.

“What is it?” Sherlock asked.

“Are you, all right?” John questioned opening the door a crack.

“Yes,” he answered surprised by the question. “Why?”

 “You were yelling,” John explained when he saw the questioning look on Sherlock’s face. “I was in the bathroom and I heard it.”

John. Sherlock had almost forgotten that his current situation affected him. John and Lestrade were friends. What would John think when he found out Lestrade was going to prison because of him? No doubt Lestrade had already been arrested. It didn’t sound like Alan was going to waste any time. John would find out about it in the morning.

He couldn’t explain it to him. John was his best friend, but he couldn’t do it.

“Nightmare,” Sherlock explained. “That’s all.”

That surprised John. It wasn’t like Sherlock to have nightmares. That meant something very serious was bothering him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” his friend asked opening the door fully.

Yes! He did want to talk about it. Yet, he found himself unable to speak. He opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it and shook his head.

 “I just want to go to sleep,” Sherlock explained.

He knew John was going to be angry with him when he found out his friend was going to prison because of him. He certainly didn’t want to get into that fight in the middle of the night. He’d been the one sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. He consented to the act. Wasn’t that why he never reported it? Yes, he was afraid he wouldn’t be believed, but deep down he knew it was his own doing.

“Alright,” John said. “You know where I am if you need me.”

Sherlock simply nodded before his friend left him alone with his thought. He reached over and started to flick off his lamp. As his fingers ran off the switch he changed his mind. Maybe being able to see his surroundings would help him sleep.

The laid his head back down on the pillow and closed his eyes. He would deal with John in the morning. He would deal with the world in the morning.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock was at a loss for words. He planned to tell John what was going on as soon as he woke up. He didn’t see any point in putting it off.  Yet, he found himself unable to make words.

John took his time preparing breakfast for them both. That meant he was going in later. No doubt he wanted to wait until Molly returned with Rosie. That gave Sherlock plenty of time to explain why one of their best friends was going to prison.

He had the perfect chance to do it. John seemed to be in a good mood. He was humming to himself as he cooked a pan full of scrambled eggs and another with bacon. He wasn’t in a rush to go to work. Rosie wasn’t there to be a distraction. Everything was perfect. So why was he putting it off?

He didn’t want to face being judged by his best friend.

“Have some eggs,” John said pushing a small pile of scrambled eggs onto his plate.

Sherlock stared at the pill of mushed up eggs with disgust. There was no way he was eating that.  A few slices of bacon quickly joined the eggs. John gave him a little smile before sitting down across from him. He picked up the morning paper and started to read it.

He had to do it. He had made this mess in the first place. If he hadn’t been sticking his nose where it didn’t belong it wouldn’t have happened. None of this would be happening.

“Sherlock?” John asked looking up from the paper. “You all right? You’re awful quiet this morning.”

 “I need to tell you something,” Sherlock explained.

“What is it?” John asked lowering the paper.

“I believe Lestrade was arrested last night,” he explained looking down at his food. “Chances are he is going to prison for a number of years.”

“Greg?” he asked in shock. “What happened?”

How was he supposed to explain this? Just the big picture. That’s all John needed to hear. He didn’t need to hear the nasty details.

“Many years ago, Lestrade and I had a sexual encounter,” he explained. “It was just a one-time thing. Well, I must admit I was a bit underage at the time. I thought it was in the past but recently evidence was turned into the police that proves it happened. Someone came by yesterday to tell me he was going to be arrested.”

“A bit underage?” John asked in a surprised voice. “How underage are we talking?”

“I was sixteen at the time,” Sherlock explained.

“I’m a bit confused,” John admitted. “When you were a teenager you had a one-night stand with Greg and that there was proof of it? Are you trying to tell you have a sex tape?”

“I suppose you could say that,” the taller man said pushing his eggs around with his fork.

John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. When it came to sex Sherlock was always very naive or at least he acted like he was. He wasn’t the kind of person to have a sex tape floating around.

“Something isn’t adding up here,” the doctor said. “You aren’t the type of person to do this. This doesn’t sound like you at all.”

“Well, it happened,” Sherlock said forcing down a fork full of eggs.

He knew if he was eating he wouldn’t have to talk. After a moment of silence, he looked up to see John looking at him with a confused look. Clearly, he wasn’t buying Sherlock’s story.

“What?” Sherlock asked with slight annoyance in his voice.

“What really happened?” John questioned.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You’re clearly not telling the truth,” the doctor said. “I haven’t lived with you all this time to not know when you’re hiding something.”

What was he supposed to say? Sherlock had opened the door. John wasn’t going to let up until he knew what had happened. At least he didn’t seem mad at him. That was a good sign.

“He caught me snooping around a crime scene,” Sherlock said before eating another fork full of eggs. “He promised to give me access to crime scenes in exchange for sex. Seemed like a fair trade. It only happened once. He felt guilty about it and never brought it up again.”

“Are you…” John started but he couldn’t finish his sentence.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Greg had used his power as a police officer to get sex from a minor. Not just any minor. Sherlock. The thought made him sick to his stomach.

“Did…did he…rape you?” John asked forcing the words out.

He prayed the answer was no.

“Of course not,” Sherlock snapped dropping his fork to the plate. “I told you I consented to what happened.”

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” John said suddenly feeling like he was pressing his friend too hard. “But I feel like you should talk to someone about this. You could always go to the Haven.”

“The rape center?” Sherlock asked in shock.

“Yes, the rape center. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I know enough to know this was sexual assault. It doesn’t matter if you gave consent,” John explained. “You were underage, and he was in a position of power.  It sounds like you have mixed feelings about what happened. I mean…I mean you’ve already changed your story once.  Having a consensual sexual experience with an older man is very different than having your interest in crime being used as a tool to extort sex.”

John wasn’t reacting how he had expected. He was angry all right, but it wasn’t directed at Sherlock. He seemed very angry with Greg. Why? It happened years ago, and he had consented to it. It was simply a legal issue because of his age and the fact Greg was a police officer.

Sherlock felt so conflicted. He had consented to the encounter but afterword’s he’d felt…dirty about the whole thing. But the fact of the matter was he had agreed. He didn’t have a right to complain afterword. Did he?

“Is that what you were dreaming about last night?” John asked suddenly. “You had a nightmare last night and it was the first time I’ve ever known you to have a nightmare.”

“I just wanted to tell you he’d been arrested,” Sherlock said standing up. “Now, you know. I would like it if you would refrain from asking me questions about it.”

“Alright,” John said nodding. “I’m here if you need to talk.”

“I’m sure you are,” Sherlock said before heading off to this bedroom.

John watched in disbelief as his friend walked away. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Greg always seemed like such a nice man. He always insisted on doing everything by the book. He hated cops who abused their power. John would have never thought that Greg was capable of such an act.

What if he had done it to other people?

John pushed the thought from his head. If he thought about that he’d be sick. He pushed away his breakfast. He couldn’t eat. His mind was fixed on his friend and what he was going through.  He was going to need his help even if he didn’t know it yet.

++

Sherlock stayed in his bedroom all morning. He didn’t even come out when he heard Molly arriving with Rosie. As much as he wanted to see her he didn’t want to face John.

He was shocked by the way John had reacted. He wasn’t mad at him at all. In fact, he seemed very worried about him. He even wanted him to talk to someone at the rape clinic.

He tried not to think about it as he tried to read. He had a book open on his kindle but couldn’t focus on the words. His mind kept drifting off. He needed to figure out what he was going to do. He could go to Mycroft and ask him to help make it disappear, but he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t go begging to his brother.

“Sherlock!” John shouted. “Someone is here to see you.”

Sherlock turned off his kindle and placed it on the bedside table. He got out of bed and walked into the sitting room. He was half expecting Mycroft to be there. To his horror, Alan was waiting for him. The man was wearing the same bag from before and looked just as a nervous.

“Lock!” Rosie said seeing him for the first time that day.

“What do you want Alan?” Sherlock asked picking up his goddaughter.

“I wanted to tell you what was going on,” he said sitting down on the couch. “Are you alright with discussing this in front of John?”

“I’m headed out,” John said quickly. “I’ll be back by five. Call me if anything comes up Sherlock.”

The doctor quickly hurried out of the flat. No doubt he wanted to make sure Sherlock had the privacy he thought he should have. Sherlock frowned as he sat down in his chair. Little Rosie was talking away to him, but he couldn’t make out a word.

“I’m sure you guessed it, but we arrested Lestrade last night,” Alan explained opening a folder. “He met with a judge early this morning and admitted to most of what he was accused of. He admitted to…physical assault, abuse of power, engaging in sexual acts with a minor, and assault by penetration. He is asking for leniency since the age of consent has changed since then. He claims you understood what you were, didn’t regret it, and hadn’t suffered any mental or physical harm because of it.”

“How long is he going away for?” Sherlock asked looking down at Rosie.

“If you can convince a judge you weren’t damaged in any way around three years,” Alan explained. “But more than likely he’s looking at five.”

“How long does he have?” he questioned.

“He goes before the judge again in two months,” the officer said. “I know you think he didn’t do anything wrong. Look…if you can convince the judge you weren’t damaged maybe you can help him out.”

“How?” he asked at once.

“See a rape therapist,” Alan suggested. “If they don’t see any problems with you they can suggest that the judge go easy.”

Rape therapist? It just sounded like a sneaky way to get him to a see a therapist, but it might be the only choice he had.

“Fine,” Sherlock said with a snort.

“Now,” he said. “Some important legal things. He is out on bail right now. He is not allowed anywhere near you. If he calls you or comes here please call the police right away. You’re more than welcome to come to his court date in two months. If you decide you want to testify against him at that court date you will have that chance.”

That wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t going assure his friend went away for even longer. He watched in silence as Alan put the folder away.

“Alright,” Alan said standing up. “I guess I’ll leave you. Would you like my card in case you want to speak to me?”

“Who did he call?” Sherlock questioned.

“Excuse me?” he asked looking at Sherlock with surprise.

“When he was arrested,” he explained. “Who did he call?”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you that,” Alan said. “But…he had us call your brother Mycroft. He picked it up but hung up on him.

Sherlock simply nodded before Alan walked out of the room.

Of course, he called Mycroft. Who else was he going to call? Most of his friends were in the police force. They weren’t going to help him. Sherlock knew some of the police officers that handled evidence were very straight and wouldn’t allow evidence to be tampered with. Sherlock, John, and Mycroft were the only other people he could call. 

Mycroft could have ignored his call, but he chose not to. He made the effort of picking up the phone and then hanging it up. He was sending a message. He wouldn’t help him.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

I tried to do as much research as I could into British law when it came to sex crimes. It seems they are pretty tight about that kind of thing over there. If anyone sees something that stands out as wrong please tell me. 

\-- 

 

_Sherlock didn’t know what do when he was thrown over the older man’s lap. This was happening too fast! The officer was holding him down with one hand. He was still handcuffed so he couldn’t do much more than wiggle._

_“Hold still,” Greg said undoing his belt. “You deserve what’s coming.”_

_The teenager yelped in surprise when felt the belt come in contact with his backside. His parents were not huge believers in spankings. They only gave him one when it was well deserved and were never too rough on him._

_At first, the smacks didn’t hurt. His jeans were protecting him fairly well. After a minute or so he started to feel it. A burning pain was starting to consume him. He expected him to stop soon but he didn’t._

_He just kept hitting him._

_Tears started to fill his eyes and he began to wiggle hard. He wanted it to stop! It hurt!_

_“Stop that,” Greg said pulling on his handcuffs hard. “We had an agreement.”_

_Sherlock knew if he started yelling someone would come running. His face burned with embarrassment at the thought of someone seeing him like that. He would never live it down. Calling out wasn’t an option.  All he could do was tough it out.  After he had agreed to this. He had no right to complain._

_Tears were flowing down his face by the time the beating stopped._

_“Alright,” Greg said. “I think you’ve had enough.”_

_Sherlock heard the belt felt the floor and moved to stand up. Greg quickly pushed him back down and held him there._

_“Hold on,” he said. “One more quick thing and then you’re free to go.”_

_Sherlock didn’t want to do anything more! He wanted to go. He let out a gasp of surprise when he felt his jeans being undone. There was no way he wanted to be naked over that man’s lap. Greg held the handcuffs tightly with one hand while he lowered Sherlock’s jeans and underpants._

_His bottom felt a bit better without the jeans pressing against them. Sherlock couldn’t imagine what he was doing. Was he simply checking for damage?_

_That idea was pushed out of his head when he felt something slipping between his cheeks. It felt like a finger was getting dangerously close to a very private part of him._

_“Relax,” Greg said pushing his finger against his tight entrance. “I promise this won’t hurt.”_

_Sherlock gasp loudly as he felt the finger start to slip inside of him. It didn’t hurt as it was worked into him. It felt odd though. It was warm and moist wiggling it’s way inside of him._

_“Stop,” he found himself whispering._

_It didn’t want this. This was too much._

_“Just give me a minute,” Greg said pushing his finger in further._

_Suddenly a wave of pleasure spread through his body. It was like fireworks went off in his head. Why did something he didn't want feel good?_

_Sherlock tried to pull away but that only caused the cuffs to cut into his wrist._

_“Stop,” he said a little louder that time._

_He wanted to scream it, but he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t call for help. This was his doing. His doing. His doing. He was to blame._

++++

“Sherlock!” John was shouting his name.

Sherlock’s was panting as he was yanked out of his sleep. His friend’s hands were on his shoulder’s shaking him. He stopped instantly when he realized Sherlock was awake.

Three nights in a row John had woken him up in the middle of the night. Sherlock always awoke in a panic with sweat dripping down his face. The good doctor always asked him if he was all right and didn’t leave until he was calmed down.

John never pressed him to talk about it.

“Are you alright?” he questioned sitting down next to him.

“I’m fine,” Sherlock lied looking away from him.

“This is the third night in a row Sherlock,” John said softly. “You’re a mess. You need help.”

As much as Sherlock didn’t want to admit it he knew his friend was right. He couldn’t go on like this. He wasn’t sleeping at night and what little sleep he did get was plagued by nightmares.

Unless he was on a case he took care of Rosie during the day. He was far too tired to deal with the child. He had dropped her off with Mrs. Hudson during the day for a few hours just to relax for a little bit. Normally caring for her while having no sleep wasn’t a problem. Lately, though it seemed like trying to do anything was too much. All he wanted to do was sleep or lie around and watch trash telly.

He just wanted to forget but he knew he would never forget. He had managed to hide the event in the deepest part of his mind palace but he knew he would never be able to lock it up again.

“Maybe you’re right,” Sherlock admitted with a sigh. “I’ll set something up.”

“Alright,” John said. “You all right for me to leave?”

“Yes,” he said nodding.

John watched as Sherlock placed his head on the pillow. He reached up to the turn the lamp off but quickly pulled his hand back. It had been on every night when he came to wake Sherlock up from his nightmares. No doubt he wanted it on.

Rage boiled inside of him. Sherlock was falling into a state of extreme depression and couldn’t sleep without a light on. John grabbed the extra baby monitor off of Sherlock’s bedside table. He was going to take it down to Mrs. Hudson. He needed her to keep an eye on the baby while he paid someone a little visit.

==

It was nearly three in the morning by the time John reached Lestrade’s flat. He was beyond tired, but he knew this had to be done. He needed answers. He knocked on the door hard. Maybe if he knocked like a cop Lestrade would open the door quickly.

As he expected the yanked open very quickly. As soon as Greg saw him he started to shut the door. John quickly shoved his way in.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Greg said as John entered the sitting room. “I’m staying away from him.”

“And I glad you are,” John said shutting the door. “If he saw you he’d lose his mind right now.”

“What do you mean?” the older man asked sitting down on the couch.

“He’s a mess,” the doctor explained. “He doesn’t sleep at all. When he does manage to he has to sleep with a light on only to wake up screaming.”

“What?” Lestrade asked looking up at him in shock. “I didn’t think that it bothered him. He seemed to move on from it after it happened.”

“He didn’t tell me what happened, but I understand basically what happened,” he said sitting across from Greg. “Why? Why would you to him?”

Greg had wondered that many times himself. He wasn’t really attracted to men and he had certainly not gotten sexually excited from looking at a teenager. He wasn’t a police officer anymore. They had fired him right after he stood in front of the judge. Yet, he knew his training. Rape and sexual assault were rarely about sex. It was about power.

Sherlock was a little smart ass from the second he met him. A little know it all. His own wife was in charge all the time. She did things the way she wanted to. He always wanted to know what it felt like to put someone on one’s lap and spank them hard. If had tried to spank her she would have slapped him. He knew it wasn’t her thing and he wouldn’t force it on her. Despite what a bitch she could be he did love her once.

When he saw young Sherlock sitting in that chair he saw a chance. If he had refused to take part Greg wouldn’t have pushed it on him. He would have let him go but he thought it was worth the risk. The kid was desperate to be allowed onto the crime scenes. Sherlock was not the object of his desire, but Greg could use him to partake in his fantasies. He was simply a means to an end. When he took Sherlock over his lap and began spanking him he was on a pure power trip. He was able to let out some bottled-up frustration and indulge in a fantasy.

Then what he did next was unforgivable. Pushing a finger inside of him. He just wanted to see what it felt like in there. Sherlock was begging him to stop but he didn’t. It was only on the third whimpered “stop” that Greg realized what he was doing.

He was taking his frustration out on his poor kid. What was wrong with him? When he saw those tear stained cheeks he knew he was a monster. As much as he wanted to deny it he knew.

John sat there starting at Greg. He was still waiting for an answer. The older man looked deep in thought. A good fifteen minutes passed before either one of them spoke.

“I’m not a pedophile you know,” Greg explained. “I don’t molest teenagers on my nights off. Sherlock ended up being in my way that day. I was frustrated, and you know how annoying Sherlock can be. There isn’t any reason or excuse for what I did. My wife didn’t understand some of my…fetishes. It wasn’t age or gender that turned me that day. It was the idea that I could…”

“You saw a kid that has interest in what you were doing, and you exploited it,” John finished getting angrier with every word. “You used him to fulfill some fantasies you had like he was a sex doll.”

“I half expected him to report it,” Greg said. “But the days went by and he never did. We ended up being good friends.”

“Of course, he didn’t report it,” The doctor said jumping to his feet. “You were a cop! I bet he didn’t think he could get charges to stick. He was a kid. He might have blamed himself for what happened. Hell, I bet he still does. He’s been awful defensive of you.”

That made Greg sick to his stomach. He was fighting with the court to get leniency and the person he hurt was trying to protect him.

“Is he really that bad off?” Greg questioned.

“I think I’ve convinced him to see a therapist,” John explained. “He is starting to show signs of PTSD.”

“Tell him I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am. If I could take it back I would.”

“Yea,” John snorted. “I’m sure they’ll make him feel better. I just wanted you to know the damage you’ve caused.  This man has dealt with some of the most dangerous criminals in the world. He’s been physically and mentally tortured. Moriarty tried everything to break him. Well, you did what none of them could do. You broke Sherlock Holmes. I hope you’re happy.”

Before Greg could think of something to say John turned and left his flat.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock couldn’t believe what he was doing. He was sitting in the waiting room of a rape center.  The word “rape” burned in his mind. It just didn’t fit. He _wasn’t_ raped. He had an appointment to speak to a therapist but that didn’t mean he was raped.

Maybe it would make John happy. His friend was over-reacting and was too worried about him. Yes, he was having nightmares. They were starting to become a bit of a problem, but he doubted speaking to a therapist was going to help.

“Sherlock,” came a gentle female voice.

Sherlock looked up to see a woman waving at him to follow her. He quickly began reading her. Mid-thirties. Two kids at home. Happily married.

No. Not the time for that.

He stopped up and followed her into another room. It looked like a normal sitting room. Great effort had been put into making it look welcoming.

“My name is Carol,” she said sitting down in one of the chairs. “Have a seat wherever you like.”

Sherlock picked the small love seat across from her. He settled down and tried to relax but being there just didn’t feel right.

“It’s all right to feel nervous,” she said opened the small folder she was holding. “So…when you set up the appointment you said you’d experienced an “incident” some years ago. Care to explain what caused you reach out to us?”

“One of my friends is being accused of sexually assaulting me,” Sherlock explained. “He’s facing up to five years in prison for it. Apparently, it was filmed at the time and was recently turned into the police.”

“How do you feel about him going away?” she asked.

“Angry,” Sherlock said. “I don’t think it’s fair he’s going to prison. His whole life is being destroyed because of this.”

“Did he assault you?” Carol questioned looking up from the folder.

Sherlock didn’t know how to answer that. He had agreed to it, but he had been underage. He had asked to stop a few times and Greg had ignored it. Yes. He had _begged_ him to stop. Didn’t that make it a crime? Was he allowed to change his mind? Of course, he was. It would be insane to think otherwise.

“I suppose so,” he admitted not really wanting to admit the truth.

“Then shouldn’t he be punished for his crime?” she asked.

“It’s complicated,” the detective said. “I was in a place I shouldn’t have been. If I hadn’t been there it wouldn’t have happened. I consented at first. I don’t think he would have done anything if I hadn’t consented.”

“A first?” she asked. “Did you make it clear that you had changed your mind.”

“Yes,” he said nodding. “I asked him to stop several times.”

“Sherlock,” she said softly. “I understand that this is your friend. No one wants their friends to go to prison but people need to be responsible for their decisions. Just from what you’ve told me I can tell you that you were assaulted.”

“If I hadn’t been where I wasn’t supposed to be it wouldn’t have happened,” Sherlock said starting to raise his voice.

“Stop means stop,” Carol said. “The second you said stop he should have stopped. No matter what.”

Sherlock sighed as he tried to get his temper under control. He knew Carol was right. For some reason, his mind went to Rosie. What if this had happened to her? What kind of advice would he give her? If she told a guy to stop and he didn’t stop, he would tell her she had been assaulted. He would never let the guy get away with it. Why was so hard to do the same thing for himself?

“Did you get therapy for this when it happened?” she questioned.

“No,” he said. “I just pretended it didn’t happen. I thought about telling my parents but in the end, I just locked it up.”

“How have you been feeling since it came up again?” Carol asked.

“Awful,” he admitted with a dry chuckle. “I can’t sleep and when I do I just have nightmares. I care for my god-daughter most days and I just haven’t been able to handle it lately. I just feel too worn out to take care of her.”

“When something like this comes up self-care is very important,” she said. “Stressing yourself out is just going to make it worse. I know these tips are going to seem very childish but please listen with an open mind. Sometimes when we lie down in bed we start thinking about all our problems and worries. Try journaling right before bed. Dump all those thoughts before you try to sleep.”

Journaling? Wasn’t that something teen girls did?

He turned his nose up to the idea.

“Alright,” she said seeing his dislike of the idea. “Try a body pillow or a stuffed animal. Sometimes the feeling of thing next to you is enough to ground you.”

Was she serious?

“You want to keep a journal and cuddle with a stuffed animal?” he asked almost unable to believe what she was saying.

“I suggest you try it,” she said. “You wouldn’t believe the difference it’s made with some of my clients.”

She had to be out of her mind if she thought he was going to do something like that.

“My friend is trying to get some leniency in his court case,” Sherlock explained. “The judge said that if he could prove I wasn’t damaged in anyway he might cut down his prison time. That’s one of the main reasons I came here. I want to help him.”

He knew he needed help but he still did want to help his friend. He didn't think he could be sent away for that long. Five years for a long time to be in prison, especially for a cop. He knew had they got treated on the inside.

“It would be highly unusual for me to write a letter to support that,” she said. “There are a few cases where it might be a good idea but I’m not sure this one of them. You’re clearly having some issues because of this.”

“So, coming here was a waste of time?” he questioned.

He wasn't hopefully this woman could help him or Lestrade. 

“I’d have to see you a few more times before I would even think of suggesting such a thing,” Carol said. “How long does he have to prove his case?”

“About two months,” Sherlock explained.

“How about we see each other again next week?” she asked looking through the folder. “Maybe things will be a bit better by then.”

Sherlock had a feeling things weren’t going to get any better.

“I have a little homework for you,” she said removing a sheet of paper from the folder. “Whenever you get overwhelmed with thoughts or feelings I want you to write it down. Just a little log. Then if you do use a coping method I want you to write down what you used and if it helped.”

She handed the sheets of paper to Sherlock. He looked at it with disgust. Why did she want him to do this?

“You need to know what helps,” Carol urged. “If you know what helps then the emotional breaks will be easier to manage.”

“I suppose,” he said folding the paper.

“I take you don’t want the full hour today,” she said as he put the paper in his pocket. “You seem anxious to go.”

“If that isn’t a problem,” he said.

“Of course not,” she said. “You only have to stay as long as you feel comfortable. I’ll put you in for next week. Same time.”

“Alright,” Sherlock said standing up.

“Try and take it easy,” Carol said. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“I’ll try,” Sherlock said simply before getting to his feet.

Without another word, he left the room.

++

Sherlock couldn’t believe that woman. She wanted him to get a stuffed animal. What was he five years old?

Her words were still on his mind as he walked home. Without thinking about it he had headed straight for a small toy store. He often brought Rosie toys from there. He wasn’t there to get something for himself. He was there to pick up a gift for Rosie.

They were having a special on stuffed animals. Buy one get one free. That seemed too good a deal for Sherlock to pass up. He shifted through the pile of sort animals looking for something that looked interesting.

His eyes fell on two different types of dragons. He picked up the creatures and looked at them. They felt soft and welcoming in his hands.

He wasn’t buying one for himself. These were for Rosie.

Why was he lying to himself? What was the point?

He sighed and went to pay for his items.

++

 

Sleepness was slowly overtaking the detective's want to stay awake. Even though it was almost one in the morning he was busy looking over his blog. Perhaps someone had submitted something interesting for him to look at.

A quick look at it told him what he already knew. No interesting cases were waiting for him.

He knew he needed to sleep. He had to be up at six when John got up for work. Rosie always woke up then and wouldn’t go down for her nap for several hours. He needed to be awake to take care of her.

Sherlock sighed and as he closed his laptop. He knew he needed to sleep.

He took his time closing his lap and placing it on the on the bookshelf where Rosie couldn’t reach it. He stopped by the bathroom to brush his teeth and use the toilet.

When he finally walked into the bedroom his heart was racing. He didn’t want to face the nightmares and he didn’t want to try the therapist’s coping tips. Yet, he knew he had to do something. Going without sleep when he was on a case was easy but…lately it had become too much.

He bent down and pulled a white shopping bag out from under his bed. It contained the stuffed dragon he had kept for himself. Rosie had loved the one had given her. John scolded him a bit for buying her a new toy, but Sherlock didn’t pay him any mind.

Sherlock removed the dragon from the plastic bag and placed it on the bed.

The offending object fell onto its side.

How was he supposed to do this? Was he just supposed to lie next to it or was he supposed to hold it? How had he done this a child? His mind went back to his youth. He didn’t have many stuffed animals as a child but he did remember one.

A teenage mutant hero turtle. Donatello. He’d bought it with his own pocket money when he was about ten. He was too old to sleep with a stuffed animal but something about the soft turtle had intrigued him He slept with every night until he was sixteen.

Sherlock crawled under the blanket and picked up the dragon. After a little debate, he decided it would be best to put it under the blanket with him. That would make it easier to hide if someone came in. He didn’t want Mrs. Hudson or John seeing the stuffed toy. He knew they wouldn’t tease him for it, but he still couldn’t stand the idea.

He took a deep breath before closing his eyes. Then for the first time in days, Sherlock Holmes slept soundly.

==

Note: I still sleep with a stuffed animal and I’m 30, so don’t feel bad if you do. I believe TMNT was still called Teenage mutant hero turtles in Britain up until 2006. I could be wrong.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry for the lack of updates. My family is going through some rough stuff right now. I’m also trying to study for mid-terms.

+++

Sherlock grumbled to himself as he slowly opened his eyes. Sunlight was streaming in through his window. The soft fur of his stuffed dragon was ticking his nose. He pushed away the toy with a disgusted grunt.

He had managed to sleep throughout the whole night. Had the dragon really worked? Had the dragon really chased away the demons? The thought of needing the toy made him sick to his stomach.

The detective picked up the toy and quickly stuffed it in his bedside table. There was no way he wanted anyone to find it. Shame filled him as he slammed the drawer shut. Why was he being reduced to this child like behavior? Why was he letting this control him?

He quickly got dressed and headed out of his bedroom. He wanted to get as far away from that dragon as possible. It was reminder of how damaged he was.

To his surprise he found Mrs. Hudson standing in the kitchen making breakfast. The smell of bacon and pancakes filled the room.

“Hello Darling,” she said. “How did you sleep?”

“Why?” he asked raising an eyebrow.

He hadn’t talked to her about what was going on. He didn’t believe that John would tell her without asking him first. That wasn’t like him.

“I don’t know what’s going on but I know something is up,” she said as she flipped a pancake.

“You could say that,” Sherlock said walking into the sitting room.

Rosie was sitting in her playpen stacking blocks. She stacked them a couple high before knocking them over. She giggled as they tumbled to the floor of the play pen.

He picked up his mobile to check his messages. It was only then that Sherlock noticed the time. It was half past eleven in the morning. He’d been asleep for nearly twelve hours! He hadn’t slept that long since the last time he had the flu. Forgetting about checking his messages he turned off his phone.

“Why didn’t someone wake me up?” he questioned putting his mobile down.

“John demanded I let you sleep,” Mrs. Hudson explained. “I was going to wake you up once I fixed your meal.”

“I guess I needed it,” Sherlock said sitting down in his chair.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked fixing a plate of food for Sherlock.

“It’s just something that happened a long time ago,” he explained as the food was handed to him.

Mrs. Hudson frowned at that. It had to be something pretty bad if he had Sherlock so worked up. She knew better than to press Sherlock but she wanted him to understand he could come to her about anything.

“Alright,” she said. “Just remember I’m always here if you want to talk about it. I’ll be home all day if you need me.”

Without another word she left the flat. She could tell he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Sherlock had barely started eating when she re-appeared.

“Client,” she said knocking on the door gently. “Are you up to it dear?”

“Of course,” he said setting his food off to the side. “Have them come right up.”

Mrs. Hudson nodded and walked away from the door. A few second later another woman entered the room. She seemed a bit nervous but walked with confidence. She met his eyes as she took a seat near him.

“My name is Marcy Green,” she said. “I am in dire need of your help.”

Marcy Green. He knew that name. She owned a pair of the best racing horses in the country. He’d seen her name in the news recently. Horse Racing wasn’t very interesting to him so he had simply glanced over the articles.

“You own race horses,” he explained.

“Yes,” she said nodding. “Silver Blaze and Bayard are the best race horses I’ve ever owned.”

“What do you require of me?” Sherlock Holmes as Rosie began to whine.

She wasn’t bad about meeting new people but sometimes they made her a bit nervous. He stood and walked over to playpen. He picked up the child before returning to his chair.

“Well,” she said waiting for him to return to his seat. “Silver Blaze is missing. I’ve reported it to the police but…I don’t think they’ll find him in time.”

“Please explain yourself,” he said as Rosie began to chew on one of her fingers. “Tell the story from the start.”

“Yesterday we had a terrible rain storm where I live,” she explained. “I checked on the animals before I went to bed. I make sure every one of them is where they should be every night. Everything seemed in order. Then when my son went out to feed the horses this morning he found Silver Blaze missing.”

“Your son?” he questioned. “How old is he?”

“Twenty,” she said frowning. “It’s his job to feed them in the morning.”

Why the frown? She looked very disturbed when he asked her son’s age. He filed it away as something to reference later.

“What other animals do you have?” he asked.

“Sheep and bees,” she explained. “Oh and a few dogs. I must find Silver Blaze. He’s set to race in only a couple of days. Money has already been placed on him. I’ll be a laughing stock of the race world if he doesn’t run.”

“Where do you live?” he asked.

“Lydford,” she explained. “I know it’s a long trip but I’m desperate.”

Sherlock frowned at that new knowledge. The case seemed interesting enough but that would require him to be away for a night. His mind went to the stuffed dragon in his bed side table. He didn’t want to travel with it but he knew he needed it.

“I’ll have to speak to John about this,” he offered.

“Of course,” she said quickly writing her mobile number down on a piece of paper. “I’ll be in town for the night. Please call me when you’ve made up your mind.”

“Of course,” he said taking the paper.

Marcy seemed to understand that Sherlock was done speaking with her. She thanked him for his time before leaving the flat.

==

Sherlock still hadn’t made up his mind by the time John got home. He wasn’t sure if John could or would come along and he couldn’t imagine doing it without John. Who was his without his faithful blogger?

It was when John had a put Rosie down for the night that be brought up the subject. He was in the middle of trying to read a book when his friend walked back into the room.

“I have an interesting case,” Sherlock said as John sat down next to him on the couch.

“Glad to hear it,” his friend said. “You needed one.”

“I need to go to Lydford for at least one night and I was wondering if you would come along with me,” the detective said.

“I suppose,” he said. “I should be able to get the day off. We aren’t very busy right now. I’ll have to ask Mrs. Hudson if she can watch Rosie. What’s the case?”

“Marcy Green is missing her prize race horse,” Sherlock explained looking up from the book he was trying to read.

“Silver Blaze is missing?” John asked raising an eyebrow. “I haven’t heard anything about it.”

“I think she is trying to keep it out of the papers,” he explained with a slight chuckle. “I didn’t realize you were a betting man.”

“I gamble from time to time,” John said shrugging his shoulders. “I might even have a little money on that horse.”

“Then it is very important we get it back,” Sherlock said shutting his book. “I’ll go speak to Mrs. Hudson about watching Rosie and then I have a phone call to make.”

John shook his head as he watched Sherlock walk out of the sitting room. The detective had a bit of a bounce in his step as he walked. Perhaps a case would make him feel better. He’d slept through the whole night. Perhaps he was on his way back to being his old self. Perhaps a night away would do them both some good.

 


	8. Chapter 8

I’m almost done with school! My final is on Monday. Thank God. Then I have the summer off. Things will be crazy again in the fall but I’ll manage.

\--

Sherlock tried to forget about his personal problems as he approached the Green farm. He was on a case. It was perfect time to forget about his troubles. He’d reluctantly packed his stuffed dragon for the trip. He’d packed enough clothes for two days just in case he needed them. The articles were a perfect place to hide the toy. He didn’t want John to see it. He didn’t think his friend would judge him but he still didn’t like the idea.

John was delighted to visit the farm. It wasn’t often that he got to spend time in the country. He wasn’t sure he’d want to live there but it was a nice place to visit.

As the pair approached the house the noise of barking dogs filled the air. A rather large sheep dog was tied up next to the porch. The creature blocked the entrance of the house growling and snarling at the strangers.

“Stop that Sandy!” a male voice called.

Sherlock looked up to see a young man exiting the house. The man looked tired and frustrated. He had dark rings around his eyes and was grinding his teeth. Despite the warm summer air he was wearing a sweater. As he reached down to grab the dog’s collar his sleeve pulled up. Sherlock noticed how skinny he was under his heavy clothes.

“Oh she’s just going her job,” John said.

“Make sure those dogs are tied tight,” Marcy said as she excited the house. “Then you can take care of their bags.”

The young man grumbled to himself as he led the agitated dog away.

“Thank you for coming,” she said. “She can just leave your bags here. My son, Straker, is a bit tired today. Please excuse him. He isn’t normally like this.”

“That’s fine,” John said. “I’m sure you’re all a bit stressed with the horse missing.”

“You could say that,” Marcy said. “I’m sure you want to see where the horses are kept right away.”

“Of course,” Sherlock said setting his bag down.

“I tried not to mess with anything” she said leading them across the yard. “Of course, I’ve had to tend to my other animals so I can’t promise I haven’t disturbed something. I haven’t allowed anyone in Silver’s blazer’s stall.”

“I take it you read John’s blog,” Sherlock said causing his friend to chuckle.

“Oh yes.” She said. “Plus I’ve always read a lot of Nancy Drew. I know its best not to touch anything.”

As they walked Sherlock tried to take in every detail of the farm. The midsize farm house sat in the middle. Off to the side was the horse barn. It was a rather large affair with a fenced yard. He hear sheep in the distance but couldn’t see them yet.

When they approached the barn Marcy slid the door open. It was only then that Sherlock noticed the security cameras.

“Is the whole barn wired with cameras?” he questioned.

“Just the entrances,” she explained. “It was raining so badly that night we lost power. Of course, it would happen when there wouldn’t be any cameras on.”

Sherlock frowned at that. What where the chances the worse would be stolen on the one night it would go undetected for several hours?

“What animals are kept in the barn?” Sherlock questioned walking over to an empty stall.

“Just the two horses,” she said glanced at the other one. “One of the dogs is kept in here at night as well. It was Rockie’s turn that night.”

“Good dog is here?” John asked as Sherlock entered the stall.

“Normally,” she said. “He usually barks at every little thing but didn’t make a noise that night.”

“He didn’t bark at all?” Sherlock asked kneeling in the hay.

“He’s getting old,” she said with a sigh. “Might be time to retire him.”

“What’s wrong with your son?” the detective questioned.

“Wrong?” Marcy asked caught off guard by the question.

“Yes,” Sherlock said looking up from the straw. “What’s the deal with him? You seem disgusted by his very presence”

“I don’t see what that has to do with this,” she snapped. “He’s a bit lazy that’s all. We were bickering about it this morning.”

“He takes care of the horses,” Sherlock explained standing up. “He saves you having to hire someone. Does he not do his job?”

“Is there a point to this questioning?” Marcy asked trying to keep herself calm.

“Just trying to get my head around your household,” he explained.

“I have things to tend to,” she said. “Feel free to look around the farm as much as you want.”

Marcy grunted to herself as she left leaving Sherlock and John alone in the barn.

“You suspect her son?” John questioned as soon as he was sure she was gone.

“Yes,” Sherlock said walking over to him. “They don’t get along at all. She claims he’s lazy but he does care for the horses. He’s rather thin and wearing heavy clothes for this time of the year. He seems to be hiding something. The cameras only went down for one night. Who else would have known about the window of opportunity? Then there is the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.”

“But the dog did nothing the night-time,” John quickly corrected.

“That was the curious incident,” Sherlock said walking past John and out of the barn.

“So, the dog knew whoever it was,” the doctor said following his friend. “If it was a stranger he would have barked.”

“Exactly,” Sherlock said.

“But why would he take the horse?” John questioned.

John hurried to keep up after his long legged friend. They walked tougher in silence until they reached a pen of sheep. The creatures began to ba and move around at the sight of the strangers. Sherlock frowned as he looked around the open area.

“Why would he take the horse?” John repeated. “He’d only be hurting his own mother.”

“I see two reasons,” Sherlock said turning his attention to his friend. “It’s clear they don’t get along. Perhaps he just did it to hurt her but I think it is more complicated than that. I think he was looking for a quick way to make some cash.”

“How can you prove it?” John questioned.

“I’m here to find the horse,” Sherlock said. “I’m sure it’ll make complete sense soon.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow as his eyes focused on something in the distance. John turned his head to follow his friend’s gaze. It was only then that he noticed two men standing a few hundred feet away. The pair was standing at the tree line. They seemed to be in a heated conversation.

“Straker and a stranger,” Sherlock explained.

Straker started to walk away from the man but seemed to change his mind. He paused before turning back to the stranger. He quickly embraced the man and the two engaged in a long kiss. It was a long moment before the pair separated. The stranger disappeared into the wall leaving Straker standing along. The young man stood there a second before walking towards the house.

“What do you think that was about?” John questioned.

“I’m going for a walk,” Sherlock said ignoring his friend’s question. “Would you please try talking to Mrs. Green for me? You are better with people than I am.”

“Of course,” the good doctor said frowning at his friend. “You all right?”

“I’m fine,” Sherlock said before walking away from his friend.

John continued to look at his friend with worry and concern. It wasn’t unusual for him to take off by himself during a case but Sherlock seemed more distracted than normal. He watched until Sherlock disappeared into the tree line. He would have to trust that his friend knew that he was doing.

He turned his back and headed back towards the house.

\--

Sherlock stepped onto the wooded path and quickly knelt down. A quick look over the path revealed a cigarette bud. The same brand as the ones he had found buried in the hay in Silver Blaze’s stall. Straker wasn’t a smoker. Sherlock could tell that by looking at the man. Marcy didn’t smoke either. So who did that mean had been in that stall?

Perhaps it was the mystery man that was no doubt a secret lover of Straker.

The detective smiled a little as he headed down the path. It seemed the case was going to be an easy one to solve.

\--

John didn’t have much luck with Marcy. She didn’t seem interested in discussing anything with him. No doubt Sherlock had rubbed him the wrong way. Dinner time came and went. Darkness fell over the farm.

The good doctor headed up to their bedroom and changing into his pajamas. He stood by the window and looked out at the night. There was no sign of Sherlock. He was starting to get worried.

Then his bedroom door opened. He half expected Marcy or Straker to walk into the room.

“Where have you been?” John asked. “I was getting worried.”

“I was taking care of things,” Sherlock said with a yawn.

“Did you find the horse?” the doctor asked.

“The horse will be here tomorrow,” he said opening his suitcase.

“You look dead tired,” John said sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“I am,” he said. “I’ve been running all over town.”

Sherlock grabbed his pajamas and disappeared into the bathroom. John was surprised that his friend was getting for bed. He usually avoided sleeping as much as he could when he was on a case. He always acted like he didn’t need sleep when he had a job for his brain.

The detective emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later. He gave a yawn before dropping down on the bed. John walked over and sat down next to him.

“How are you doing?” John asked. “You seem distracted…even for you.”

“I’m fine,” Sherlock said getting under the blankets. “Good night.”

John frowned as Sherlock turned away from him. He knew he shouldn’t press him but he wanted to be there for him. He nodded, even though Sherlock couldn’t see, and crawled under the blankets.

“Good night,” John said before closing his eyes.

\--

Sherlock didn’t go to sleep. He laid awake listening to John’s breathing. When Sherlock was sure John was asleep he carefully slipped out of bed. He needed his dragon to sleep.

He fetched the soft toy from his luggage and curled up under the blanket with it. As soon as he felt the plush toy touch his skin he felt safe. It was the strangest sensation. He felt like he could fall asleep without worrying about the nightmares.

Sherlock wasn’t worrying about John seeing the toy. He normally woke up early in the morning. John was a late sleeper when he didn’t have to work. He seemed to really enjoy his days off.

The detective closed his eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep.

\--

John grumbled as he opened his eyes. Damn his aging body. He needed to empty his bladder right away. He glanced over at Sherlock on his way to the bathroom. His friend was lying in bed only half covered with his blanket. He was holding a stuffed dragon close to his chest.

As he took care of his bodily needs he wondered what Sherlock was doing with a stuffed animal. He never knew him to sleep with him before.

Was he using it to deal with the nightmares?

That thought caused mixed feelings in John. He was glad that his friend had found a way to deal with the nightmares but the thought that he NEEDED it made him sick. He really hoped that the judge threw the book at Lestrade. The ex-cop seemed remorseful about what he had done but there was no way he truly understand the damage he had done.

Sherlock was trying so hard to live his life normally but John knew he was struggling. It was painful to watch. He wanted to help. He wanted to take away all his pain.

John got into bed and reached over to rub his friend on the shoulder. He knew Sherlock wasn’t much for physical contact but he felt like he needed a hug. He needed comfort. That was why he was turning to a stuffed toy.

“Everything is going to be alright,” John said even though he knew Sherlock couldn’t hear him. “I’ll be there for you.”

Sherlock grumbled a bit but didn’t pull away from John’s touch. The doctor pulled his hand away before lying down to go back to sleep.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

I got a new laptop! I’ve been living off an old Windows Surface RT. Oh my god. It feels so nice to have a good computer. I ended up getting a HP stream. It’s working great. Hopefully it keeps up being great.

\--

John would have normally slept late when given the chance. Between work, cases, and Rosie he felt like he never got enough sleep. Yet, he found himself opening his eyes shortly after dawn. A warm beam of light was streaming into the room.

He groaned and looked across at Sherlock. He had taken care to hide his stuffed animal under the sheets but John could just see the head under the blanket.

What should he do? 

He knew that Sherlock wouldn’t want him to see the toy. No doubt the detective was ashamed of it. If he wasn’t he wouldn’t have hide it.

Should he lie down and pretend to be asleep?

He didn’t think there was any point in it. Sherlock was bound to wake up any minute and he would be able to see right through his act. That didn’t leave him with much choice.

“Get up if you want,” Sherlock mumbled. “Mrs. Green is up. I can hear her moving around down stairs. Perhaps she’ll have some coffee for you.”

“Sherlock-“ John started unsure of what he was going to say.

“I know you must have seen the dragon,” Sherlock said pushing the toy farther under the blanket. “If you must talk about it make it quick.”

“I’m not judging you for it,” the doctor said placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I know,” Sherlock said. “I’m judging myself for it. I don’t need you to.”

“You went through something very traumatic,” John said. “There is nothing wrong with having a way to cope with it.”

“It was years ago,” he said with a sigh. “It shouldn’t bother me now.”

“You never got any help after it happened,” John explained. “You’ve had this locked up for years.”

Sherlock didn’t say anything. He pulled away from John’s touch. He sat up and tossed the stuffed creature to the floor. He had frustrated look on his face. John didn’t need to know exactly what had happened to know it was a bad. It had to be. Sherlock was completely overwhelmed by the thought of what had happened.

 “He’s my friend,” Sherlock explained. “He didn’t know when he did this. He’s my friend now. I don’t have many friends and I’m losing one of them.”

John frowned unsure of what to say. There was nothing he could say to make everything better. Lestrade and Sherlock had managed to put whatever had happened behind them and had become close friends. They both pretended nothing had ever happened. Sherlock wasn’t sure how to accept what had happened to him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” John asked in a soft voice.

“Why?” Sherlock questioned looking away from him.

“Maybe talking to someone you trust will make you feel better,” John suggested.

Sherlock shook his head a few times. He did want to talk about it. He wanted to tell John everything. Yet, he didn’t want to burn John with the information. He didn’t want his friend to hate Lestrade anymore then he already did.

He looked up to see John looking at him. His wide eyes were filled with worry and concern. Perhaps talking to John would make him feel better.

“I think I do want to tell you,” Sherlock said. “I guess…I haven’t really talked to anyone about it.”

He had discussed it slightly with his therapist and Alan but he hadn’t opened up about it with anyone.

“You only have to tell me what you’ve comfortable with,” John explained, “and you stop anytime you want.”

“I had just started at a new school,” Sherlock explained. “After only a couple of days there was a murder. I was trying to sneak around the crime scene when Lestrade caught me. He handcuffed me and drug me into a teacher’s office. I thought he was going to arrest me.”

Sherlock looked away from his friend. There was no way he could speak those words while looking into his friend’s eyes.

“I explained that I wanted to help out with crimes,” he continued. “At first he told me to get lost but then he stopped. He told me if I was willing to engage in sexual acts with him I could help out on cases.”

John frowned as he listened to his friend’s story. Sherlock was slowly curling up as he told his story. He pulled his knees close to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. It looked like he was trying to make himself as small as possible.

“I don’t know why I agreed,” Sherlock said. “I guess it seemed like a fair trade at the time. Then he instructed that I lie over his knee.”

John had a feeling he knew where his story was going. He felt sick to his stomach as the words slipped from his friend’s lips. It sounded like a terrifying thing to go through.

“He took off his belt and spanked me,” his said his voice going a bit lower. “He kept going and going. I didn’t think he would ever stop but after a while it did. I thought he was done with me. Then…he lowered my jeans and…”

John wanted to push him. He wanted to demand to know what had happened to him but he didn’t. He knew pushing him wouldn’t do any good. He had let Sherlock tell his story in his own time.

“He fingered me John,” he explained trying to get it over as fast as possible. “It was only at that point that he stopped. He seemed completely panicked when he let me go. We both decided to pretend it never happened.”

His friend fell silent and it was clear he wasn’t going to speak again.

“Oh Sherlock I’m sorry,” John said unsure of what to say.

“I thought he was going to rape me,” Sherlock admitted.

That was the first time Sherlock had expressed that fear. He’d been so terrified in that moment that Lestrade was going to rape him after he was done fingering him.

John felt rage boiling inside of him. Sherlock thought he was going to get raped. Lestrade had put that fear into him. A man that he once trusted with his life. A man who he had shared deep talks with. It made him sick.

To his surprise Sherlock uncurled himself and moved to lean against John. He rested his head on his friend’s chest and took a few nervous breaths. His friend needed comfort. John wrapped his arms around him and held him close. He could feel him trembling slightly.

“I can’t fix the past,” John said, “but I’ll be here to help you get through this. I will always be here for you Sherlock. Don’t ever forget that.”

He could feel Sherlock calming down. His breathing and shaking were starting to slow down. It felt like an eternity before his friend started to pull away from him.

“Thank you John,” Sherlock said looing away from him.

“Mr. Holmes!” a female voice was shouting. “Dr. Watson! That horse is back.”

Sherlock smiled slipping back into his old self.

“Come on John!” Sherlock yelled jumping from the bed. “You’re going to want to be there for this.”

\--

Sherlock and John quickly pulled on some new clothes before heading down stairs. Mrs. Green was standing on the front yard with the missing horse. She was looking at the creature with a shocked look on her face.

“He was just here,” Mrs. Green said. “Have you seen my son? I’ve been calling Straker for ages but I can’t find him.”

“Straker moved out early this morning,” Sherlock explained.

This caused John and Mrs. Green to look at him with surprise.

“What are you talking about Sherlock?” John questioned.

“I met Tristian yesterday,” the detective explained. “You must know him. Straker and Tristian have been dating a very long time.”

“How did you find out about that?” she snapped.

“You disapprove your son being with another man,” Sherlock explained. “You told him you’d kick him out if he kept seeing him. Little do you know Straker has been working part time so he could save some money. He wanted to get away from you. That’s why he looks so tired. It’s hard doing all the work here and working part time.”

“This isn’t your business,” she said shaking a hand at him.

“You and your husband separated over this,” he explained. “He wasn’t against Straker being gay and offered him a home with him. Yet, Straker didn’t go. He didn’t want to be that far away from Tristian. Well, I’ve fixed the problem so you don’t need to worry about it anymore.”

“What did you do?” John asked surprised by the story that was unfolding.

“I own a small farm in Sussex,” Sherlock said. “My parents use it as a summer home sometimes. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind me renting it out to a nice young couple.”

“He let my horse out to get back at me,” she said feeling angry build in her. “And you are helping him? Get off my land now or I’m calling the police.”

John and Sherlock hurried back upstairs to get their bags. It was clear Mrs. Green didn’t want them around and they had no desire to stay.

 

 

 

  


	10. Chapter 10

John didn’t know what to think or how to feel. Sherlock had been through something extremely traumatic and he didn’t know how to help him. He knew the road to recovery was going to be a long and painful one. He would be there for Sherlock every step of the way but would it be enough?

He had to make sure Sherlock had a good therapist any resource he needed. Of course, he knew Sherlock didn’t like the idea of getting help. He’d put up a good fight about seeing a therapist in the first place. It was John’s job to make sure he kept going.

It was clearly making things better. No doubt it was the therapist that had suggested the plush animal. There was no way Sherlock would have tried that all on his own. Without that item Sherlock wouldn’t be sleeping at all.

Sherlock was never one to sleep much; but there was a difference between not wanting to sleep and being awoken by horrible nightmares.

 After their return from the case of the missing horse Sherlock seemed to be in a better mood.

Sherlock wasn’t likely to admit it out loud but talking to John about it had helped. It felt good to let it out. He knew John would be there to support him no matter what. John was there. He wasn’t alone anymore.

When he had first been assaulted he was alone. He had no friends. He didn’t feel like he could tell his parents or his brother.

Well, he wasn’t alone anymore. He had friends to support him and help him through it.

**It**?

That short word kept repeating itself in his head. He had been assaulted. He’d been taken advantage of. It wasn’t consensual.

_I thought he was going to rape me._

Those words echoed in his head. He couldn’t believe he had said them out loud to John. He’d kept that thought locked away in a dark room of his mind palace. It was a fear he never wanted to re-visit. He wondered why Lestrade had stopped. What had made him change his mind about his actions? He wished could ask him.

Why did he do it in the first place and what made him stop?

He felt like he **NEEDED** to know. He didn’t think he could move on without knowing.

Sherlock knew he would have the chance to speak with him at the trial but he didn’t think he could wait that long. He needed to speak to him. He knew that Lestrade wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near him but he had to do it.

The consulting detective waited until after John and Rosie had fallen asleep for the night. He would check Lestrade’s flat first. If he wasn’t there he would find him. He had his ways.

-

Greg Lestrade grumped as he stared blankly at the telly. He was trying to watch Jurassic Park but he couldn’t focus on the images. All he could think about was his future.

He was screwed. His lawyer didn’t have much faith that the judge was going to go easy on him.

The ex-detective had given up on life. He was going to prison for five years. Then when he got out he would have to register as a sex offender.

The guilt of what he had done was taking over his mind. John’s visit was still fresh in his mind. He couldn’t believe he had devastated Sherlock in the way John had described.

He’d only been out of the house to visit his lawyer and buy a little food and a lot of beer. He didn’t want to leave the house. He didn’t want to face the world. He just wanted to get a drunk as possible and try to forget about what a monster he was.

A heavy knocking at the door jerked him out of his thoughts. He’d have a few random check-ins from the police. Apparently, they were worried he was going to run.

He got to his feet and walked over to the door. He started to open it. The second he saw who it was he tried to close the door.

Sherlock!

“I’m coming in,” Sherlock said pushing on the door hard.

Greg was knocked back by the force. He stumbled back and fell onto the couch. He often forgot how strong Sherlock was. The excessive amount of alcohol he’d been drinking wasn’t helping his case.

Sherlock walked fully into the room before shutting the door behind him.

“Get out!” Greg shouted putting at the door. “I’m going to prison tonight if someone sees you here!”

“I need to ask you a few questions,” the taller man said standing in front of the television.

“I already explained this to John,” Greg said picking up a half drunk beer. “I’ve done this.”

“John?” Sherlock asked raising an eyebrow. “John was here?”

“Yes,” he said drinking a month full of beer.

Sherlock didn’t know what he was talking about. John hadn’t told him they had spoken.

“I didn’t tell him much,” he said. “He mostly just wanted to tell me how badly you were doing. I guess he was trying to make me feel bad about myself.”

That sounded like John. He always was his watch dog and protector.

“I’m glad to see you’re handling all this so well,” he said sarcastically.

He glanced around the flat. Greg was never a neat freak but the apartment looked awful. There were empty beer bottles and take away containers littering the floor. 

“What do you want from me?” Greg asked closing his eyes.

“Why me?” Sherlock asked. “You were a cop. You had access to an unlimited supply of troubled youth. Why did you pick me?”

“I didn’t pick you,” he said taking a deep breath. “You were just there Sherlock. It was nothing personal.”

Sherlock didn’t know how to feel about that. He didn’t even know what Greg meant. He was just there?

“I saw my chance to indulge in a fantasy so I jumped at it,” Greg said opened his eyes. “I didn’t think about how it would affect you. I was being selfish.”

“Why did you stop then?” Sherlock asked.

“I don’t know,” Greg said before turning his attention back to his beer.

Sherlock growled in frustration. What did he mean he didn’t know? He was talking like it wasn’t a big deal. He was acting like he took the last biscuit and got caught.

The taller man lunged forward and ripped the beer bottle from hand. Without giving it a second thought he tossed the glass container into the wall. The glass shattered and spread across the floor. Greg looked at him with a shocked look.

“You assaulted me and you can’t even tell me why you stopped?” Sherlock demanded. “You took a teenager over your lap and violated them. What made you stop?”

“I went too far!” Greg shouted. “I’ll tell you what I told John. I just wanted to see what it was like. I wanted to see what it was like to dominate someone. It…it was like a dream and then…I just snapped out it. I saw what I was doing. I know you don’t believe me but I am sorry. I would do anything to take it back but I can’t.”

Sherlock didn’t know what to say as he watched Greg get to his feet. Greg’s answers made him feel worse. Lestrade hadn’t been attracted to him in any way.  He had half expected to find out Lestrade was attracted to teen boys but it wasn’t like that. He’d just used him like some kind of toy. He had only stopped because he’d snapped out his fantasy world. Something had snapped him out of it.

“Please go Sherlock,” Greg said before disappearing into his kitchen.

What snapped him out of it?

He followed Greg into the kitchen. He needed to know.

Greg was leaning up against the cabinet drinking a glass of water.

“What snapped you out if it?” Sherlock demanded. “What was it that made you stop?”

“You were crying,” he explained looking down at his glass. “You were begging me to stop. You looked so…broken. There was no way I could keep going. I felt guilty about what I was doing.”

“Not guilty enough to turn yourself in,” Sherlock corrected.

“It would have ruined my life,” Greg said keeping his eyes on his water.

He couldn’t look his ex-friend in the face. Never again.

“I thought you moved on from it as well,” Greg said. “You didn’t seem bothered by it. I guess I wrong.”

Before he even knew what was going on Sherlock was lunging forward. He felt his hands gripping into Greg’s shoulders. The man let out a gasp as he was thrown to the floor. The glass he was holding flew out of his hand and smashed onto the floor.

Sherlock could only feel pure rage racing through him as he punched blindly. Greg cried out and shoved with all his force. He managed to dislodge Sherlock for a few moments. He jumped to his feet and ran out to the living room.

Greg didn’t make it far before he tackled again. Sherlock was filled with rage in a way he had never seen before.

“Stop!” he shouted punching back. “This isn’t going to fix anything!”

“Sherlock!” a familiar voice was shouting. “Stop!”

Two pairs of hands were pulling at Sherlock’s shoulders. He growled and tried to pull away with their grasp. After a bit of struggle he was finally pulled off of Greg. He was lying on the floor panting and bleeding from several cuts.

“Come on,” Anderson’s voice filled his ears. “Sherlock calm down.”

He felt a blanket being placed around his shoulders. Everything was a blur. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t see. The world was spinning around him. He could hear Anderson trying to calm him down. He was leading him out of the flat.

By the time they reached the street Sherlock was starting to calm down. He couldn’t believe what he had just done. If it hadn’t been for the arrival of the police he might have killed Greg.

“Sit down here,” Anderson instructed.

Anderson opened the front passenger seat of a police car and helped Sherlock sit down.

“Do you need anything?” the police officer asked.

“Yes,” Sherlock grumbled. “A time machine.”

“I wish I could give you that,” the other man said kneeling down next to him. “I know you’re angry but you can’t do that.”

Sherlock felt sick to his stomach at those words. Anderson knew what had happened. He was sure a lot of people knew what had happened.

“I need a doctor,” Sherlock said suddenly.

A fiery pain was spreading through his chest. Greg had put up a good fight against him and he was sure he had a broken rib.

“Alright,” his friend said. “I’ll call for an ambulance. Just rest.”

Sherlock closed his eyes and relaxed against the seat. His eyes had barely closed before he was asleep.

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

When Sherlock opened his eyes he was in a dimly lit hospital room. He felt something soft rubbing against him. He shifted his body and looked down to find his stuffed dragon at his side. Pain ripped through him as he moved. It felt like someone had shattered one of his ribs.

 

John must have brought the dragon to him. There was no way he would want him to have an emotional fit in the hospital.

 

Sherlock frowned as he pushed the toy away. He had conflicted feelings about the toy being there. He was glad he had it to comfort him but he was upset the nurses had seen it. Who knows what they thought about him.

 

Huh!

 

The sound of a snore entered Sherlock’s ears. No doubt it was John. The man kept a careful watch over him.

 

Sherlock looked in the direction of the noise and was shocked by what he was found. It wasn’t John at all.

 

His grumpy older brother was sitting in the chair next to the bed. The man was fast asleep with a thick novel clutched in his hands. The very edge of the book was grasped between his fingers. The slightly move would send the book tumbling to his floor.

 

What was he doing there? Didn’t he have more important things to deal with?

 

“Mycroft,” Sherlock said.

 

The single word was enough to jolt the older man awake. He jumped as the book slipped from his fingers. It fell to the floor with a soft thud. Mycroft blinked a few times before focusing his attention on Sherlock.

 

“What are you doing here?” he questioned raising an eyebrow.

 

“Keeping an eye on you,” Mycroft answered bending down to pick up his book. 

 

“I expected John to be here,” Sherlock said a little bit off my Mycroft’s presence.

 

He didn’t think he ever remembered Mycroft visiting him in the hospital. 

 

“He was here,” his older brother explained. “He went home to check on the baby.”

 

“I suppose you’re here to lecture me,” the younger man said with a snort. 

 

His brother was always rubbing his mistakes in his face.

 

“He isn’t pressing charges,” he explained placing the book on the bedside table. “He understands why you tried to kill him.”

 

“Do you blame me?” the young man said looking away from him. “He deserved it after what he did.”

 

“If I had found out about this first he would be dead,” Mycroft said more to himself than Sherlock.

 

Sherlock chuckled a bit at that. No doubt Mycroft would jump at the chance to use his power. 

 

The tape. He wondered if Mycroft had seen it. The thought of his brother watching it made him sick to his stomach.

 

“I haven’t seen it,” he explained as if he could read his mind. “I’ve heard of it.”

 

Mycroft must know who turned the tape in. Part of Sherlock wanted to ask. He was curious about who had sent the tape in. Yet, he didn’t ask. He was scared to know to answer. No doubt who ever had turned it in had watched it. He didn’t really want to know who had seen his worst moment. 

 

“I’m not good at his sort of thing,” Mycroft said waving his hand in Sherlock's general direction. “I understand you are in distress because of what happened. I was just wondering if there was anything I could do to...relieve your suffering.”

 

Mycroft sure had a strange way of putting things. 

 

“No,” Sherlock answered. “I suppose this kind of thing just takes time.”

 

“I see,” Mycroft said standing up. “I must go. I have a meeting to get to.”

 

“Yes,” Sherlock said closing his eyes. “Run along.”

 

Mycroft paused and looked down at his younger brother. Even though he couldn’t say it out loud he was worried about his brother. He was clearly damaged by his past and had no idea how to deal with it. 

 

“I’ll be fine,” the injured man said without opening his eyes. “You’re free to go.”

‘

Sherlock kept his eyes closed until he heard the door to his room open and close. He opened his eyes with a sigh. He didn’t need his brother worrying about him. That never led to anything good. 

 

He glanced over at the bedside and noticed that Mycroft had left his book behind. He reached over and picked up the rather thick book. 

 

**_The Haunting of Hill House_ **

 

Sherlock chuckled and placed the book back on the bedside table. Mycroft always had an interest in the strangest books. As he placed the book back he noticed his mobile. He picked up the phone and quickly sent a message to John.

 

John had been his rock the last week and he felt alone without him.

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

I’m waiting on my final grade for Algebra and I’m nervous beyond belief. I’m writing fanfiction to take my mind off it. Must stay busy.

-

 

Sherlock had two broken ribs and a heavy heart when he returned home two days later. He was going to have to take it easy for a while and that was never easy for him. He wanted to be on his feet chasing criminals across London.

 

Well, he wouldn’t be doing that for a while. 

 

He couldn’t even pick up Rosie without being in pain. 

 

John decided to take a few days off from work. He knew Sherlock needed him around the flat. He’d seem more depressed since his injury. He hadn’t spoken to him about what had taken place in Lestrade’s flat.

 

After putting the young one to bed John returned to the sitting room.

 

He found Sherlock lying stretched out on the couch. His friend seemed to be engrossed in a book. 

 

_ At least he is keeping himself busy _ , John thought as he sat down in his chair. 

 

“I won’t be seeing the therapist again,” Sherlock announced not looking up from his book.

 

“Any reason why?” John asked not really surprised by the news.

 

“I don’t care what happens to  _ him _ anymore,” the detective said closing the book. 

 

“There are  _ other _ reasons to go,” the doctor said softly. “You seemed to feel better after your first appointment.”

 

Sherlock knew he was right. It was the therapist who had suggested the stuffed animal afterall. Yet, he didn’t like the idea of going back. It seemed overwhelming and scary. If he kept going he would have to talk about _ it  _ with his therapist at some point. He wasn’t sure he wanted to do that. He had already talked about his assault with John. What good would come from talking to a therapist about it?

 

His  _ assault _ . 

 

He was finally started to accept what had happened to him. 

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” John asked.

 

“I shouldn’t have gone,” Sherlock said tossing the book onto the coffee table. 

 

“Why did you go?” the doctor asked jumping a bit at the book slammed onto the table. 

 

“Why did  _ you _ ?” the detective questioned looking at his friend. 

 

“He told you about that huh?” John asked shaking his head. “I guess I had questions that I needed answered.”

 

“I had questions of my own,” he explained. “Well, I got the answers I needed. I guess that was what made me lunge at him.”

 

John frowned looking at his friend. He was clearly in so much pain; both physically and emotionally. He wished he could fix everything for him. There was so much pain clouding Sherlock’s eyes. All he wanted to do was making it go away.

 

Without a word John rose to his feet and crossed over to the couch. Sherlock sat up so that there would be room for John to sit next to him. Part of him wanted to scream at John to go away; while the other part wanted to ask for a hug.

 

“Sherlock,” John started unsure of what he was going to say. 

 

He really didn’t know what to say. He just wanted Sherlock to know he was there for him He wanted his friend to know he wasn’t alone. He had opened up to him while they were on the case of the missing horse. He wanted him to know he could  _ always _ come to him about any problem he was having. 

 

What happened next took the two of them by surprise. Sherlock turned to lean against his friend and John moved to friendly bump heads with him. The jumble of movement led to an unintended consequence.

 

Their lips met. 

 

Both of them jumped back as soon as their lips met.

 

“Sorry!” John said blushing slightly.

 

“It was me,” he said nervously clearing his throat.  “I put my head too close. I’m sorry.”

 

“No,” John said shaking his head. “It’s alright. You don’t have to be sorry.”

 

_ What was he saying? _

 

The two of them sat in silence of the sitting room staring at each other. If this had happened with any of the person they would have just laughed it off and went about their day. Yet, they couldn't do that. They just sat there staring at each other. 

 

“Can…” John was trying to ask a question but he couldn’t finish it. 

 

“Can you kiss me again?” Sherlock questioned.

 

“Yes,” the doctor said nodding. “Can I?”

 

Sherlock didn’t answer him. Instead he moved in and pushed their lips together. John let out a surprised gasp as their lips met. He only kissed girls in the past. His first kiss with a man was nothing like he expected. 

 

Not that he had thought much about kissing another man. 

 

His friend didn’t try to force his tongue into his mouth and or dominate the kiss. Sherlock gently pressed his lips against his. 

 

It was over before John knew it. 

 

Sherlock pulled back and looked at him with a questioning look. Neither of them knew what to say.

 

“What do we do now?” John asked.

 

“I don’t know,” he admitted shaking his head. “I’ve never been in this position before. I don’t know what is  _ supposed  _ to happen now.”

 

“Nothing is  _ supposed _ to happen,” John explained. “It’s pretty clear we both enjoyed that. I’m just as surprised as you are.”

 

“I don’t know about that before,” Sherlock said a slight chuckle. “You’ve had a  _ real _ kiss before.”

 

_ Real kiss? What did he mean by that? Oh yes. He means not for a case. Oh.  _

 

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” John said. “We don’t have to...we don’t have to do this again. I mean...if you don’t want to do it again. No pressure.”

 

“Let’s see what happens,” the detective said. 

 

Sherlock had experienced his first real kiss. It wasn’t a kiss he was forced to do because of a case. Even though it had happened because of a mistake he was counting it. John wanted to kiss him. Someone had  _ asked  _ to kiss him. It had been so intimate and inviting. He wanted to do it again. He had never felt that with anyone. He had never  _ wanted _ to be intimate with someone. 

 

_ This is what it was _ **_supposed_ ** _ to feel like.  _

 

Intimate acts weren’t supposed to feel scary or forced. They were supposed to feel loving and welcoming. He couldn’t speak for John but that's what he had felt when their lips met. For the first time in a long time he felt loved.

  
  
  
  
  



	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock was reluctant to go back to his therapist. He just didn’t see the point in going. What good would it bring? In the end he promised John he would give it one more try. If he still felt uncomfortable with going then he wouldn’t go anymore.

 

He gave a grunt of pain as he settled down in the waiting room. His ribs were still killing him. He wondered what exactly he was going to talk to her about. 

 

For the first in days his mind wasn’t on Lestrade. It was on John. 

 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the ksis they had shared. John’s lips had been so soft and warm against his own. He wanted to feel them again. 

 

They hadn’t kissed or even embraced since the night before.He knew John was just giving him his space. The good doctor knew what he’d been through. He didn’t want to force Sherlock into anything.

 

Was he supposed to bring it up to his therapist? Did she need to know? What did people normally tell their therapist?

 

He felt lost. He wished John was sitting next to him.  He wanted his friend to tell him everything was going to be alright. 

 

Sherlock looked down at the open book in his hand. Due to his injury he had spent most of his time reading the book Mycroft had left behind. He was nearly done with it. 

 

“Sherlock Holmes,” came a soft familiar voice. 

 

He closed his book and rose to his feet. Without even glancing at his therapist he followed her into the small room.

 

“How was your week?” she asked as Sherlock sat down. 

 

“Better,” Sherlock admitted. 

 

“What do you think helped?” she asked opening a small folder. 

 

“I bought a stuffed animal,” Sherlock admitted still not looking up. 

 

He didn’t want to look at her as he spoke. He was still ashamed of needing the toy. There was no way he wanted to look someone in the eye while he admitted to needing it.

 

“I’m glad it helped,” she said gently. “Are you still hoping to help your friend?”

 

Sherlock shook his head at that question. Lestrade wasn’t his friend. He never was. He had taken advantage of him. It hurt to accept that. Before John came into his life Lestrade was his dearest friend. Of course, he had Molly but it was different with her. She was in love with him. It wasn’t the same bond he had with Lestrade. He was almost like a father to him.

 

Was that why it was so hard to accept? 

 

“I don’t care what happens to him,” Sherlock explained looking up for the first time.

 

HIs therapist was looking with a concerned look in her eyes. She was clearly worried about his mental state. Sherlock didn’t blame her. No doubt she knew who he was. It seemed like he was a household name. No doubt she didn’t expect such a broken man. 

 

“What changed your mind?” she asked.

 

“I spoke to him,” Sherlock explained. “He...he just didn’t seem to understand the damage he has done. I think he is sorry for hurting me but…”

 

“He can’t feel the pain you’re feeling right now,” she finished when Sherlock’s words ran dry. “You have to live with the memory of what happened. He has to live with the guilt of what he did but it isn’t the same as what you feel. He was in the one in power. You were the one made to feel powerless.”

 

“What do you suggest I do?” the detective asked looking down at the book in his hands. 

 

“I can understand not walking to talk to a stranger about what happened,” she said. “Have you discussed what happened with a family member or friend?”

 

“I have,” he said nodding. “I told my friend what happened. It helped a bit.”

 

“I personally prefer talking with patients,” she said. “I think it is normally a better road than medication. I truly believe you are suffering from PTSD. Have you ever had a need for antidepressants?”

 

Sherlock nodded. His mother had forced him to take them for a year when he was a teenager. It was the first time he had gone to drug rehab. They were supposed to help with the withdrawal symptoms. He hated the idea of taking them and had stopped as soon as he could.

 

“It seems like that wasn’t a good memory,” she said. “What I am going to do is give you a list-”

 

“I kissed my best friend,” Sherlock said interrupting her. “Last night.”

 

“Oh,” she said a bit surprised by the outburst. “And how did that make you feel?”

 

“Happy,” he said.

 

“Good,” she said. “I’m glad you have someone in your life. Support is very important in a time like this.”

 

“He thinks I need to see you,” Sherlock explained. “He wants to be there for me but he thinks you can give me support he can’t.”

 

“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be,” she explained. “If being here makes you uncomfortable you don’t have to come. I want you to be comfortable.”

 

“I don’t feel comfortable talking about this with you,” he said with a sigh. “I’m only here because my friend insisted I come.”

 

“I think you should only come back and see me when you’re comfortable with talking to me,” she explained writing something down in the folder. “I think you are feeling pressured to get help right now and they can really trigger memories for you. I don’t want you feel forced into anything right now.”

 

“I think that is a good idea,” Sherlock said standing up. “I’ll come back another time.”

 

“I want to take something,” she said pulling a small booklet out of the folder. “This is a workbook for sexual abuse victims. I know it sounds silly but work through it. I think this will help you more than I can right now.”

 

Sherlock took the booklet from hands without looking at it. He wasn’t ready to look at it. 

 

“Thank you,” Sherlock said.

 

WIthout another word he walked out of the room. He needed to get out of there and get some air. 

  
  
  
\--

Here is Sherlock's dragon for those wondering what he looked like. Looking at you RikasGrayWolf. Thanks for all the love. This is how I always pictured Smaug as a baby. 

 


	14. Chapter 14

Sherlock didn’t even think about where he was going. He simply let his feet take him around London. He wasn’t in any hurry to get home. He knew John would be there and he didn’t want to face him. 

 

John wanted him to go to therapy. He made it clear he was worried about his mental state. Sherlock didn’t want his friend to worry. Causing his friend distress was the last thing he wanted to do. 

 

_ This isn’t about John. _

 

The thought forced its way into his head.  

 

This was about _ him  _ and  _ his  _ recovery. 

 

Without even thinking about Sherlock found himself at Scotland Yard. He hadn’t been there since Lestrade’s arrest. He didn’t think he would be welcome there anymore. After all Lestrade had been his only friend there. Everyone else couldn’t stand him.

 

He stood in the lobby for the longest time. He watched as people walked about doing their jobs. A few gave him curious glances but no one seemed overly interested in him. 

 

It was clear no one was interested in interacting with him. 

 

Sherlock remembered the countless times he had stood in that entry way with John at his side. How many cases had he solved for the yard? He couldn’t even remember. He’d have to check his files.

 

He was just turning to leave when he heard someone calling his name.

 

“Sherlock!” a female voice was shouting. 

 

He turned to see Megan Durhum running towards him.  She was waving and smiling at him. That surprised Sherlock a lot. He always got the feeling she didn’t like him very much.

 

“It’s been a while,” she said once she reached him. “How are you doing?”

 

Megan’s main job was to handle evidence. Had she seen the tape? Sherlock got the feeling she had. He felt his skin crawl at the thought. 

 

“Fine,” he answered jerking his eyes away from her. 

 

“I was going through some old case files,” Megan explained. “I found a bunch of cold case files for you to go through. Come on up to my office.”

 

Sherlock didn’t say anything as he followed her up to her office. He didn’t know what to think about this. Was she just doing this because she felt bad for him or did she really need his help?

 

As they headed to her office Sherlock glanced across one of the large rooms. Lestrade’s office was just on the other side. At least it had been there. It was someone else’s office now.

 

Neither one of them spoke until they were behind closed doors.

 

“I don’t want your pity,” Sherlock said suddenly. 

 

“You won’t get any,” Megan said sitting down at her desk.  “You’ve done very good work for us in the past and I don’t see a reason to end it.”

 

“I just thought that since…” Sherlock started but stopped short. 

 

He didn’t want to say his name out loud. He had spent so long trying to remember his first name. Now, the thought of saving his name made him sick. 

 

Megan frowned pulling a stack out folders out of her desk. Lestrade had always been the one who insisted Sherlock be allowed around. Even though Sherlock got very annoying from time to time he was still a good man. 

 

Sherlock remembered everytime Anderson had wanted him gone and Lestrade had protected him. 

 

_ He’s with me. _

 

“Don’t worry about him,” she said handing the folder to Sherlock. “We’re all very disgusted with what he did. I want you to know that no one is blaming you or supporting him. It was a major shock to everyone here.”

 

Sherlock nodded taking the folder. He had been worried people at Scotland Yard would be angry with him. After all, their best detective was gone because of him. 

 

“Good luck with those,” she said. “If you need any other resources check in with in with me. I’ll make sure you’re called if anything interesting comes up.”

 

Sherlock wanted to get out there. He was suddenly becoming very dizzy and lightheaded. He needed some air. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

 

“Are you alright?” Megan asked getting to her feet.

 

He wanted to say he was alright but he couldn’t. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

 

Megan stood and rushed to his side. She reached out and tried to touch his arm. Sherlock pulled away from the touch instantly. 

 

“You need to breathe,” she said. “I think you’re having a panic attack.”

 

He shook his head. That was insane. Panic attacks were for drama queens. He wasn’t a drama queen. He was fine. He began to shake his head over and over. 

 

“Come on,” she said taking hold of his arm.

 

Sherlock tried to pull away but she held on tightly. Even though he didn’t want her touching him there was something grounding about her touch. It reminded him that he wasn’t alone.

 

Megan carefully led Sherlock out of the office and down the stairs. She didn’t want to draw attention to the state Sherlock was in but she wanted to get him out of there. 

 

It seemed her he was having some kind of panic attack. Maybe being in Scotland Yard was reminding him of Lestrade. She knew he had already seen him and beat him up very badly but this was different. 

 

He’d gotten his rage out and was trying to move on with his life. No doubt being in Scotland Yard brought up memories he was trying to forget. It clearly upset him to be in a place that reminded him of the man that had hurt him so badly.

 

At least that was how it seemed to her.

 

As soon they are were out of the building Sherlock seemed to relax under her touch. The two of them sat down on the steps out front. Sherlock took a few deep breaths trying to calm himself.

 

“Feel better?” Megan asked.

 

“Yes,” he said.

 

“I guess coming here is going to be hard for a while,” she said giving him a worried look.

 

He didn’t think it would be. He thought he could just walk in there and it wouldn’t bother him. He thought he could just forget.

 

“I’m fine now,” he said standing up. 

 

Sherlock just wanted to go home and start working on the cold case files. He needed to keep his mind busy. He didn’t want to think about how he was feeling. 

 

Megan wanted to comfort him but she stayed silent. It was clear Sherlock didn’t want to open up to her and she didn’t blame him. It wasn’t her business anyway. 

 

Without another word Sherlock headed home.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Sherlock wasted no time hurrying home. He couldn’t believe what had happened. He had a panic attack. Granted it was a mild one but it was still a panic attack. It had been one of the most intense and scary things that had ever happened to him.

 

He always thought panic attacks only happened to dramatic people who couldn’t handle the world around them. He never expected to experience one himself. He’d felt so helpless and alone. 

 

He had mentally collapsed in front of another person. Why had it happened? It had happened just because he was in Scotland yard. Just being there had overwhelmed him. All he could think about was _him_ and how betrayed he felt by _him_ the second he walked in.

 

Would he ever be able to go there without thinking about Lestrade?

 

As soon as he entered the flat he headed straight for his bedroom.

 

“Sherlock,” John said as he walked by. “I dropped Rosie off with Molly for the night. I was hoping we could-”

 

Sherlock cared about what John was saying. He wasn’t trying to push his friend away but he couldn’t handle a conversation at that moment. He shut his bedroom behind him with a bit of force. 

 

He dropped the paperwork he was carrying on the bed and took off his coat. It felt heavier than usual on him and he didn’t like the feeling. He grabbed his stuffed dragon and dropped to the floor next to the bed. He hugged the stuffed creature close to his chest. 

 

“Sherlock?” John asked gently knocking on the door. “Are you alright?”

 

“Just leave me alone,” he whispered not nearly loud enough for John to hear.

 

He didn’t really want John to go away. He wanted him to come in and make everything better. He just didn’t know how to ask. 

 

The doctor opened the door just a bit. He peeked in and looked at Sherlock with a confused and worried look. It was hard for him to see his friend so upset. All he wanted to do was make everything better for him but he knew there was little he could do. It made him feel so helpless. He knelt down in front of him. 

 

“What happened?” he asked gently placing a hand on his friend’s arm. “You looked so happy this morning.”

 

“I went to therapy,” Sherlock explained. “”It went alright. Then I decided to go to Scotland Yard. I thought I would be alright there but...something about being there...upset me.”

 

John hadn’t thought about that either. It didn’t occur to him that going to Scotland Yard might upset Sherlock. Yet, it made sense. No doubt being there brought up memories of Lestrade; memories he wished he didn’t have. 

 

To Sherlock it felt like all the years of friendship with Lestrade had been one big lie. He had pretended to be his friend. He didn’t know if it was out of guilt or fear. Sherlock had repressed the memory and enjoyed the advantages that the relationship brought. 

 

“Trauma is a strange thing,” John said really unsure of what to say. “You really don’t know how you are going to reaction to certain things. You can’t control what upset you. You just need to understand what to do when it happens.”

 

“I’m not going back to that therapist,” Sherlock explained. “I’m not ready for it. I’d rather wait. I want to wait until I’m ready.”

 

John didn’t like the idea of Sherlock putting off therapy. His friend was in bad shape and really needed some help. Yet, he knew it wasn’t his place. He couldn’t make him get help. All he could do was be there to support him. 

 

“That’s alright,” the doctor said. “You have to do things at your own pace.”

 

John wanted him to take things at his own pace. 

_ He wasn’t going to force him to get help. _

That knowledge lifted a weight off his chest. Suddenly Sherlock felt better. He didn’t want to sit around the flat feeling bad for himself. It seemed like John wanted to spend time with him. After all, he had sent Rosie away for the night. 

 

“What did you have planned?” Sherlock questioned leaning against his friend.

 

John smiled a bit and wrapped his arm around his friend. The two snuggled tightly on the floor. Despite the hard surface of the floor John felt more comfortable than he had ever been in his whole life.

 

“Oh that,” he said a bit taken back by the sudden change. “I thought maybe we could go for a trip to the Eye.”

 

“Is this a date?” the detetive questioned.

 

John wasn’t sure how to answer that. He mind drifted back to the passionate kiss they had shared. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Sherlock. It felt right when they kissed. It didn’t make him feel uncomfortable. In Fact, he wanted to do it again.

 

Yet, he was unsure of how to proceed. Sherlock was trying to deal with something very traumatic. Perhaps he wasn’t at the right state of mind to get into a serious relationship.

 

“Do you want it to be?” John asked.

 

Sherlock thought about that question. He’d ever been on a real date before. It sounded interesting.

 

“Yes,” the taller man said. “I want it to be a date.”

 

“Well then I expect dinner,” he joked.

 

Sherlock smiled at bit at that. He looked down at the stuffed dragon in his hands. It was nice having the creature to turn to but it felt niecer having John around. When John wrapped his arms around him he felt safe. 

 

“Let’s go,” Sherlock said tossing the toy onto the bed. 

 

John smirked as his friend jumped to his feet. Sherlock’s mood changes could be overwhelming sometimes but it was nice to see him happy. 

 

-

 

Molly had never felt so conflicted in her life. When John had asked her to watch Roise he looked so tired and worried. She knew what he was stressed about but she had to pretend she didn’t know why.

 

She had to pretend she didn’t know why Lestrade had been arrested and fired. She had to pretend she didn’t know that Sherlock’s world was being turned upside down.

 

She knew what was causing her friend so much pain. She was the cause of it.

 

It had happened about a month ago. She’d been dating a security guard named Marcus Longe. One night she’d gone back to his flat after dinner. After some rather plain sex she’d found herself alone. He'd slipped off to take a shower. While he was in the shower she’d found his porn collection. 

 

Curious to see what her new boyfriend was into she had placed a tape into the VCR. What she was saw made her stomach turn. Without thinking about she took the tape and ran out of that apartment. 

 

She had no idea what to do with it. She knew who those people on the tape were. They were her friends. 

 

After some thought she decided to get copies of the tape made and start sending them out. She knew it would hurt Sherlock emotionally for the tape to come out but she had to do something. Greg had to be punished for his crime.

 

Within twenty four hours of sending out the first tape Mycroft had appeared at her home. Something about that man scared her but she wouldn’t allow it to show.

 

“Hello,” she said as he leaned against her door frame. “What can I do for you?”

 

“It seems you’ve come into possession of a very interesting tape,” he said. 

 

“What do you want?” she asked nervously folding her arms over her chest.

 

“I suppose thanking you is in line,” Mycroft said with a sigh.

 

He seemed very reluctant to be there. It felt to her like he was forcing himself to do it. 

 

“ Oh,” Molly said.

 

She didn’t expect Mycroft to thank her. She half expected him to take the tapes and stop her. No doubt he wouldn’t want to cause Sherlock any stress. She was jerked out of her thoughts by the sound of a ringing phone.

 

“That would be your boss,” he said. “I think he might be giving you a raise and some much needed vacation time.”

 

WIthout waiting for her to reply he turned and started walking down the hall. Molly shook her head as she closed the door behind him. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. As she raced to grab the phone she knew she didn’t have a choice anymore.

 

She had to make sure Greg Lestrade was brought to justice.

 

She was jerked out of her thoughts by the sound of Rosie crying. Even though she felt guilty about the suffering Sherock was going through she didn’t regret her decision. Sometimes the hardest decision was the right one. 

  
  
  
  
  



	16. Chapter 16

 

Sherlock felt completely relaxed by the time they returned home. Maybe a night out was just what he needed. 

 

He’d had his first real date and it had felt completely natural. They’d eaten at Angelo’s place before heading over to the London eye. 

 

People always stared at him when he was out. That was to be expected. He was famous after all. It was worse at the Eye due to the line. People were bored and stuck in one place. Of course, they were going to pay a celebrity more attention.

 

“Don’t worry about them,” John said as they stepped inside the capsule. 

 

They stood together looking at over the city. They had only been standing there a few seconds when Sherlock felt John’s hand touch his. John’s fingers were entwining with his own. 

 

That surprised Sherlock a bit. He expected that John wouldn’t want any public displays of affection. He’d always gotten very annoyed in the past whenever anyone suggested they were a couple. 

 

“People will talk,” Sherlock said looking down at their hands.

 

“Let them,” John said with a little laugh. “I don’t care what people think.”

 

That had been one of the most wonderful moments of Sherlock’s life. 

 

When they returned to the flat Sherlock kicked off his shoes and headed to bed. He felt like he was going to fall asleep as soon as he hit the bed.

 

“Going to bed?” John asked.

 

“Yes,” he said. “I’m dead.”

 

John chuckled to himself as Sherlock headed into this bedroom. He wasn’t used to seeing his friend sleep so much. No doubt everything that was going on was a lot for him.

 

Sherlock changed into his pajamas and dropped into the bed. He knew he needed to take a shower but he didn’t have the energy. His dragon lay forgotten on the floor. The toy slipped from his mind as his closed his eyes. He was in too good a mood to think about the toy.

 

-

 

Lestrade. He was back there over Lestrade’s lap. He could feel his hands running over him. 

 

_ “Hold still,” Greg’s voice filled his ears. “You deserve what’s coming.” _

 

He didn’t deserve it! He wasn’t to blame for this. It hurt so badly as Greg rained blows down on him. 

 

He was fighting him as hard as he could. He wanted him to let him go. He wanted it to stop. 

 

Just make it stop! 

 

-

 

Sherlock’s eyes snapped open. He was greeted by his dark bedroom. He quickly reached over and flicked on the lamp. As soon as the light filled the room he began to feel calmer. 

 

He was safe. He was in his room. 

 

Sherlock could feel something wet running down his face. He reached a hand up to touch his face. Tears were leaking out of his face. The tips of his fingers quickly became wet.

 

He was crying. 

 

He jerked his hand away and shook his head in disgust. Crying was not something he did. He pushed back the blankets and climbed out of the bed. 

 

The detective was grateful his nightmares hadn’t woken up John. There was no way he wanted to see him cry. 

 

He ran into the bathroom and started looking for a box of tissues. He wanted to clean his face before John saw. He opened the cabinet under the sink and was relieved to see the box. 

 

As he reached in to take the box into his hand he noticed a bottle of pills. It looked to be a bottle of antidepressants that belonged to John. He knew John had been given the pills in the past to help him with his own issues. 

 

He often filled the prescription, took a few, and then forgot about it.Doctors always make the worst patients. 

 

Sherlock picked up the bottle and looked at the label. 

 

_**Zoloft. 50 mgs.** _

 

He glanced over his shoulder at the bathroom door. He couldn’t hear anyone moving about their flat. There was always the chance that John didn’t hear him having his nightmare. 

 

_ Don’t do it.  _

 

His brain was screaming at him. If he needed medicine he could see a doctor. It would be fairly easy for him to get an antidepressant. Yet, he couldn’t. He couldn’t sit in front of a doctor and ask for help for his mental issues. What if it got out? He couldn’t handle the thought of anyone knowing he needed that kind of help.

 

Sherlock opened the bottle and took one of the pills into his hand. He quickly put the pill bottle away. He wasted no time dry swallowing the pill. He couldn’t risk going to the kitchen to get a cup. If he ran into John his game was up.

 

He wasn’t abusing the medicine. He needed it. He was just too ashamed to get his own prescription. There was nothing wrong with what he was doing. 

 

**Nothing wrong at all.**

 

He quickly returned to bed. 

  
  
  
  
  



	17. Chapter 17

The next two weeks were fairly relaxed. John was delighted to see his friend doing better. He seemed to be sleeping and even eating a bit better. 

 

Whenever John woke up in the middle of the night he made sure to check on Sherlock. He hadn’t been woken up by Sherlock’s shouting since he brought the dragon. During most of John’s late night checks Sherlock was clutching his stuffed dragon but sometimes it was on the floor. Perhaps he didn’t even need it as much anymore. That thought made John happy and he knew it would make Sherlock feel better.

 

The two of them were taking their relationship rather slow. They had only been out on one more date. They kissed here and there but hadn’t done more than that. Sherlock seemed comfortable but John didn’t want to push him. 

 

Sherlock had solved a few of the cold case files that were given to him. He still had to do research on a few of them. He’d glanced through the workbook that his therapist had given him but it was hard to focus on. Looking at it seemed to bother him more than help him. In the end he had hidden it in his sock drawer. 

 

The good doctor had no idea Sherlock was self-medicating. He didn’t suspect Sherlock was using drugs of any kind.He wasn’t acting high; he was just acting happy. 

 

Sherlock did his best to hide the use of the pills. He only took them when he was sure John was asleep. He made sure to always put the pill bottle back in the same spot. He knew he would run out after another week. He would have to do something. He was starting to feel better and he didn’t want to give that feeling up.

 

He was going to have to see a doctor and get a proper prescription. 

 

Oh how he dreaded the thought.

 

He would have been able to hide it from John longer if it wasn’t for the side effects of the pills. The pills were a bit hard on his stomach. He often felt nauseous in the morning until he had something to eat. He wasn’t used to eating breakfast and it was a bit hard to get used to. 

 

Early one Sunday morning the two of them were rushed off to the scene of a suspected murder. It didn’t seem overly complicated but Scotland Yard insisted he come down for it. Sherlock felt like they were just inviting him because they felt bad for him but he wasn’t going turn it down.

 

The crime scene was a cramped flat in Brixton. A deceased woman lay in the kitchen next to a dead dog. It wasn’t a large dog. It was a small dog that could have only weighed half a stone. There was no sign of a struggle or damage to either dead body.

 

“We have no idea why he killed the dog,” Anderson said as Sherlock knelt next to the body.

 

“Not exactly a guard dog,” John joked.

 

Sherlock was having a hard time focusing on the body. His stomach felt like acid and the smell of the body wasn’t helping. There was an overpowering smell of almonds. The overbearing smell only added to his sick stomach. It was too much for him.

 

“Where’s the bathroom?” Sherlock asked jumping to feet.

 

“Down the hall,” Anderson explained. “First door on the left.”

 

Sherlock quickly rushed down the hall nearly knocking Donovan over in the process. He opened the door and ducked into the room. He shut the door and fell to his knees in front of the toilet. He barely had time to lift the lid before he was emptying his stomach.

 

It was over as soon as it started.

 

He let out a relieved sigh and flushed the toilet. His stomach felt a bit better but he knew he would have to eat soon or it would start hurting again. 

 

Almonds. He had smelt Almonds.

 

Sherlock quickly rushed out of the bathroom and back down to the kitchen. John and Anderson were standing over the body making small talk with each other. He paid them not mind as he knelt down next to the body.

 

“Are you alright?” John questioned as Sherlock walked back into the room.

 

“I smelt almonds,” he explained ignoring John’s question.

 

“Almonds?” Anderson said. “I don’t smell anything.”

 

“I smelt it stronger earlier,” Sherlock said looking over the body. “I’ll bet anything this is Cyanide poisoning.”

 

“It’s murder for sure then,” John said watching his friend work.

 

“Yes,” he said standing back up. “Call me when you get the lab report. I need that confirmed. I’ll do my own work until then.”

 

“You’re leaving?” Anderson asked a bit surprised. 

 

“Yes,” he said. “Not much I can do here right now.”

 

John frowned as he followed after his friend. It was clear something was up but he wasn’t sure what.

\--

 

John might not have ever found out what was wrong with Sherlock if he didn’t need to open a new toothbrush. He was digging around under the sink for a new toothbrush when he found a nearly empty bottle of pills. He picked up the bottle and gave it a curious look. He only remembered taking a few out of the bottle.

 

Sherlock.

 

The thought hit him like a pile of bricks. Was that why Sherlock was doing better? Was that why he’d felt ill at the crime scene? John remembered them being rather hard on his stomach. If he thought he needed an antidepressant he could just go to the doctor. He didn’t need to steal John’s medicine. 

 

John knew he needed to talk to Sherlock about what he was doing. He wasn’t mad at him but he was worried. Self-medicating could be very dangerous.Surely Sherlock knew that. It was clear the pills were a bit too hard for his stomach. Maybe he was just scared to ask a doctor for medicine.

 

Without putting the bottle down John walked into the kitchen. Rosie was sitting in her highchair getting fed breakfast by Sherlock. She didn’t seem interested in eating the oatmeal he was offering her.

 

“Fine,” he said taking her out of the high chair. 

 

John waited until Sherlock had placed Rosie in her playpen and cleaned up the high chair. 

 

“We need to talk,” John said as Sherlock settled down in his chair. 

 

“About what?” the detective asked picking up his laptop. 

 

“This,” the doctor said placing the bottle of pills on the coffee table.

 

Sherlock frowned glancing up at John. As soon as he saw the pills he jerked his eyes back down at his laptop. He knew he was in for one hell of a lecture. 

 

“Is that why you got sick yesterday?” he asked sitting down at the couch. 

 

“I suppose,”he said keeping his eyes fixed on his computer.

 

“You can’t take my medicine,” John said. “It is working for you. I  can see that you’re feeling better but it’s too hard on your stomach. You need to speak to a doctor and get a different prescription.”

 

Sherlock let out a frustrated grunt and slammed his laptop shut. He slid the device under his chair and stood up. He was in no mood to listen to John. He was doing better! It didn’t matter where he was getting the pills. 

 

“I’m going out,” he said before John had a chance to ask.”Mrs. Hudson is in. I’m sure she can watch Rosie while you go to work.”

 

“Please stay,” John said standing up. “We need to talk about this.”

 

Sherlock didn’t reply. He slipped on his coat and rushed out of the lair. 

 

-

Sherlock knew that John was right but he didn’t want to admit it. He shouldn’t be taking his medicine. It was clearly too rough on his stomach. He couldn’t handle being sick to his stomach. It required him to eat too much. 

 

His mind drifted back to his teenage years and the medicine he was forced to take.

 

_ Please take it Sherlock. It’ll help baby. _

 

His mother’s words drifted back to him as he walked. He’d been so ashamed to take the pills then. He wasn’t broken. Only broken people needed that kind of medicine. 

 

**He wasn’t broken.**

 

Well, maybe he was. Maybe he was broken. After all, he did  **NEED** the pills. He just didn’t want anyone to find out. 

 

Everyone already knew he was a freak. He didn’t everyone to know he was  _ broken _ on top of that. 

 

Sherlock was headed to the walk in mental health clinic. He knew he would have to wait to see a doctor but he had to do it. If he didn’t go right away then he never would. He knew John would come with him if he asked him but he couldn’t do that.

 

John wasn’t just his friend anymore. He was his boyfriend. He knew John would just sit in the waiting room and worry about him. He didn’t want to put anymore stress on him. Why would he stay in a relationship that was just filled with stress and worry? 

 

When he reached the clinic he paused at the door. 

 

**What if someone recognized him?**

 

Sherlock pushed the thought of out of his mind as he stepped inside. 

 

He  **needed** to do this.

  
  


-

 

_ A personal note. I’m out of school right now (still a straight A student) in a biology/chemistry degree program. I don’t normally work during the summer. I like to take several months off to relax. I have decided to keep working this summer and take the fall off. I will be busy this fall with school. Taking Intro to human A & P, a writing class, and ethics. Uh!  _

 

_ I plan on taking off work during the fall so I can focus on school. I should have time for fanfiction since I won’t be working. Last fall and this spring I was working and going to school.  _

 

_ So, it’s good news! Thanks for the reviews and kudos. It really keeps me going.  _


	18. Chapter 18

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mad hatter by Melanine Martinez

 

So what if I'm crazy? The best people are

All the best people are crazy, all the best people are...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

John felt guilt ridden as soon as Sherlock left the flat.

 

**Stupid!**

 

He shouldn’t have jumped on him. He should have brought it up in a more gentle way. He knew how Sherlock felt when he thought was cornered. No doubt Sherlock was ashamed of needing the medicine in the first place.

 

Despite how tough Sherlock pretended to be his friend was actually very sensitive. Sometimes John forgot that. 

 

He would have to deal with it later. Sherlock would be alright. He had to be alright. 

 

After packing a day back for Rosie the two of them headed down to Mrs. Hudson’s flat.

 

“Sherlock working today?” Mrs. Hudson asked taking the child.

 

“Sorta,” he said setting the bag down on the floor.

 

“Did you two have a fight?” she asked sitting down on the couch with Rosie. 

 

“You could say that,” he said with a sigh.

 

John wasn’t sure how much Mrs. Hudson knew. He wouldn’t tell her anything that Sherlock wouldn’t want her to know. He was being very private about what he was going through. 

 

“I know something is going on,” his landlady said. “Sherlock is acting different and I haven’t seen Greg around here in weeks.”

 

“Please don’t mention him in front of Sherlock,” John said quickly without thinking about it. 

 

John instantly regretted saying that. Mrs. Hudson would ask questions for sure. 

 

“What happened?” she asked in surprise. “They were best friends before.”

 

“It’s a long story,” the doctor said unsure of how to proceed. “I can’t really say much.”

 

“I can respect that,” Mrs. Hudson said. “Just let him know he can talk to me about anything.”

 

“I will Mrs. Hudson,” he said turning to leave. “Thank you for doing this. You don’t know what it means to me.”

 

“No problem,” she said. “Go to work. Rosie is safe and happy with me.”

 

John gave his daughter a quick glance before heading out the door. He would have to decide what to do with Sherlock later.

 

-

The wait in the waiting room was almost unbearable to Sherlock. He thought about leaving several times but he made himself stay. He knew he  **had** to do it.

 

After what seemed like an eternity Sherlock was taken into a room to speak to a psychologist. He felt sick to his stomach as he explained his story. Re-visiting his trauma wasn’t something he enjoyed but it had to be done.

 

It didn't take the psychologist very long to diagnosis him with PTSD and prescribe him 20 mgs of Paxil. Sherlock hurried out of there and went to the chemist .to pick get his medicine filled. He just wanted to get it, get home, and pretend none of this had ever happened. 

 

Once he had the bottle of pills in his hands he started to relax.The hardest part was over. He’d gone to a doctor and received the medicine. The psychologist wanted to see him in a month to see how he was doing. Sherlock didn’t have a problem with that. He could handle a check up in a month.

 

As he headed home Sherlock began to think about John. He felt horrible about what he’d done. John was just worried about him. Sherlock did have a history of abusing drugs. The good doctor had a right to worry about him taking antidepressants without seeing a doctor.

 

When Sherlock finally reached 221b baker street he headed to up to his flat. He wanted to put his medicine away before he picked up Rosie. He didn’t want Mrs. Hudson to see them. She wouldn’t ask too many questions but he was still uncomfortable with  **ANYONE** seeing them. 

 

He dropped the pills off in the bathroom before heading down to Mrs. Hudson’s flat. 

 

After a couple of knocks the door opened. Mrs. Hudson gave him a concerned look as he stepped into the flat. 

 

“You look awful,” she said closing the door. “Are you feeling alright?”

 

“I’m fine,” he said hoping she would drop the subject. 

 

“I know it isn’t place but I hope you know you can talk to me,” she said softly. “You know you are more than a tenant to me.”

 

Sherlock sighed at that those words. He knew Mrs. Hudson thought of him as a son. 

 

“Lestrade is going to prison for something he did to me a long time ago,” Sherlock said dropping down on the couch. “I guess I’m having a hard time dealing with it.”

 

“That nice detective?” she asked sitting down next to him. “What did he do to you?”

 

How could he stay it? He really didn’t want to go into much detail. 

 

“He molested me when I was a teenager,” Sherlock explained. “He is finally being charged with it.”

 

That wasn’t really the whole story but it was enough detail for Mrs. Hudson to understand what was going on.

 

“Molested?” she asked in shock. “He’s lucky he’s going to prison. I’d do a real number on him if I ever saw him again.”

 

Sherlock chuckled at that. He knew she was telling the truth. He knew she would if she got the chance. 

 

“I’m sorry you’re going through this,” she said wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Everything will be ok one day. At least you have John and me to help you out.”

 

“I know,” he said leaning into her touch.

 

A comfortable silence filled the room. Sherlock liked being close to Mrs. Hudson. No matter who crazy he drove her she was always loving and understanding. The silence was only broken by Rosie’s cries. 

 

“Someone is up from their nap,” Mrs. Hudson said standing up. “I’ll go get her.”

 

Mrs. Hudson rose from the couch and disappeared off into the bedroom. 

 

Sherlock couldn’t help but think about what she had said. He was lucky. John was the most supportive person in the world and he was lucky to have him. He was the worst boyfriend in the world. John was doing everything he could to help him and he was sneaking around abusing medicine. 

 

Why did he always make John worry about him so much?

 

“She’s a bit fussy,” Mrs. Hudson said walking back into the room with Rosie in her arms. 

 

Rosie rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she caught sight of Sherlock. She let out a cry of delight as Sherlock took her into his arms. 

 

“Try and relax,” she said fetching the child’s day bag. “You look like you’ve been stressing yourself out.”

 

“I’ll try Mrs. Hudson,” he said taking the bag from her.

 

Sherlock carried the young child up to his flat. John deserved better than him. He didn’t deserve a mental damaged man who was tempted to abuse drugs to deal with his life. He would try and be better. For John he was willing to do anything. 

 


	19. Chapter 19

So I will be finishing up Blinded over the next few days. I am working on the sequel right now. It will be a mixed media story. It will be set when Rosie is 13. She’ll have a tumblr blog to go along with the story. The address is  [ https://screechingpuppypeace.tumblr.com/ ](https://screechingpuppypeace.tumblr.com/) I’m pretty sure you can read it without being a member of the site. I want this to be interactive so if you want to please sign up for Tumblr. Make an account as a kid her age and communicate with her! I’ll try and work everyone who reaches out to her into the story. Also you don’t have to be nice to her. If you want to be a bully like figure go for it. Just try and be family friendly with it. I’ve started posting on it already to try and make it feel “real” when the new story comes out. Have fun!

 

\---

 

John didn’t know he was going to say to his boyfriend. He knew Sherlock would be angry with him for jumping on him. He was just trying to help. He didn’t want him to do anything dangerous. John stopped to pick up dinner before heading home. 

 

The doctor walked up stairs to their flat. He opened the door and stepped inside. He was preparing for a ill-tempered Sherlock.

 

“Come on Rosie,” Sherlock’s voice filled his ears. 

 

Rosie and Sherlock were lying on a blanket on the floor. Both of them were on their bellies. Rosie was giggling and crawling towards Sherlock. Everytime Rosie got close to him he would move a bit. 

 

John let out a small laugh as Rosie crawled faster towards Sherlock. He looked up at the sound of John laughing.

 

“Daddy's home,” Sherlock standing up.

 

He bent down and picked up the child. She squealed with delight when she saw her Daddy. John handed the food off to Sherlock as he took the child into his arms. 

 

“I wanted to apologize about this morning,” John said as he sat down with his daughter. 

 

Sherlock set the bags of food on the kitchen table and started going through them. He looked up a John with a curious look. 

 

What was he talking about? 

 

John had simply done what any doctor would do. He had pointed out what Sherlock was doing was wrong and told him that he couldn’t keep doing it. Yes, it had upset him but John wasn’t wrong. He was wrong to steal the pills and then stomp out of flat. It was a bit childish of him.

 

“For what?” Sherlock questioned turning his attention back to the food.

 

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” he said. “I should be more understanding about what you’re going through.”

 

“I went to the doctor,” Sherlock said making plates for them. “I’ve got my own prescription.”

 

“Oh,” John said completely surprised.

 

He really didn’t think Sherlock would go to anyone. He was sure he had a fight on his hands. 

 

“I needed to hear it,” the detective said walking over to John. “You keep me straight John. It wasn’t nice to hear but I needed to hear it.”

 

“I’m glad I could help,” John said as Sherlock sat the food in front of him. “I still shouldn’t have jumped on you. I should have been a bit more gentle.”

 

Sherlock sat down in his own chair with his own plate. He didn’t reply to John’s statement as he dug into his food. John was happy Sherlock was eating more but it upset him at the same time. His boyfriend was doing everything he could to stay busy. Sherlock always liked to stay busy but this time it was different.

 

In the past if Sherlock was “bored” and didn’t have a good case to work on he would just shoot the wall. Nowadays Sherlock was happy to do housework when he was bored. The dishes were always done and the flat was dust free. John hadn’t done the washing in weeks. 

 

It seemed like Sherlock couldn’t handle being idle for a moment. No doubt he was trying to keep his mind off the assault. 

 

“How are you doing?” John asked helping Rosie eat some of the food. 

 

“Fine,” he said sounding annoyed by the question.

 

John decided to drop the subject. Sherlock had already been through enough that day. He didn’t need anymore stress. The doctor knew the recovery was going to be a long road and that he needed to do it at his own pace.

 

“Good,” he said turning his full attention to his food.

 

Everything was going to get better. It had to get better. He couldn’t stand watching Sherlock suffer.

 

\--

As soon as Sherlock put Rosie to bed he went into the bathroom to take his pills. He took the lid off and dropped one into his hand. The bright pink pill stood out against his skin. He quickly swallowed the pill before he had chance to think about it He quickly twisted the lid back on.

 

He hated the fact he needed the pill. He hoped one day he would be able to function without it.

 

Suddenly, Sherlock felt a pair of hands wrapping around his waist. The pill bottle slipped from his hand and hit the floor. He let out a gasp of surprise. 

 

“Don’t,” Sherlock said quickly moving away from the pair of hands.

 

“I’m sorry,” John said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

 

Sherlock’s heart was racing as he leaned against the wall. He had been so frightened when he felt a strange pair of hands touching him.

 

John. It was John. Only John.

 

“I shouldn’t have snuck up on you,” the doctor said bending down to pick up the bottle of pills. 

 

He sat the bottle of pills on the counter before glancing over at Sherlock. The man in question had his arms wrapped around his waist and huddled against the wall. He seemed be shaking slightly.

 

“I’m fine,” Sherlock said trying to calm himself.

 

Sherlock took a deep breath before walking over to John. He wrapped his arms around John and pulled him into a tight hug. John smiled and hugged him back.

 

“I’m sorry John,” he said resting his head against his boyfriend. “I shouldn’t be so jumpy.”

 

“You can’t help how you feel,” John said. “It’ll be better one day.”

 

Sherlock feel quiet and very still. After a moment he pulled back and looked down at his feet.

 

“What is it?” the doctor asked.

 

“I have something I want to ask you,” Sherlock said. “It’s something you could do that would really help me.”

 

John’s ears perked up at that. He wanted to help Sherlock more than anything. He waited a moment to see if Sherlock was going to keep talking.

 

“I’m worried you might think it’s strange,” the detective said.

 

“Just tell me,” John urged. “You won’t know what I think until you ask.”

 

“I want you to spank me,” Sherlock said.

 

John’s eyes widened at the request. 

 

He took off his belt and spanked me

 

Sherlock’s words filled his mind. Why did Sherlock want him to spank him? Did it have anything to do with his abuse? They had only kissed and snuggled a bit. Going right to spanking was a big jump.

 

“Why?” John asked. 

 

“I don’t really know,” Sherlock said still keep his eyes fixed on his shoes. “Ever since the first time you kissed me I wanted you to do it. I suppose the urge is worse now because I deserve it.”

 

“Why do you deserve it?”  John asked.

 

“I lied to you,” the detective explained. “I stole your pills and took them. I should have just gone to a doctor.”

 

John wasn’t sure what to do. If Sherlock was comfortable with it then he didn’t see a problem with yet. As long as it was doing in a loving way John didn’t see the problem with it. 

 

“Alright,” he said. 

 

Sherlock jerked his head up and looked at him with a surprised look. He really didn’t expect John to go along with it.  

 

“How do you want me to do this?” John questioned.

 

“Spank me with a belt over my jeans,” Sherlock explained getting done to business.

 

“Alright,” he said nodding. “Right now?”

 

“Of course,” Sherlock said walking past John and out of the bathroom.

 

“I’ll run up stairs and get a belt,” John said as if it was the most normal thing he could ever say.

 

Sherlock nodded and sat down on his bed. He couldn’t believe he had actually asked John to spank him. The fact that John had agreed was even more mind blowing. He had been honest with John. He didn’t know why he felt the urge to spanked. He just did. It was overwhelming. He wanted John to take him over his lap and put him in his place. The thought sent waves of arousal through him.

 

He didn’t have to wait long before John walked back into the room. The doctor sat down on the bed next to him.

 

“Over my lap,” John instructed.

 

Sherlock took a deep breath as he laid over John’s lap. It felt so strange to be in that position. He hadn’t been spanked since Lestrade did it. 

 

“How many do you want?” John asked folding the belt in two. 

 

“You decide,” Sherlock said closing his eyes.

 

“Alright,” John said placing a hand on the small of Sherlock’s back. “If you need or want me to stop speak up. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

 

“I will,” he promised.

 

Sherlock lowered his head to hide it in the sheets. He lowered his hands to his side and gripped the sheets tightly in his hand.

 

John took a deep breath before bringing the belt down on Sherlock’s backside. The taller man let out a gasp but nothing more. The doctor raised the belt and brought it down again. Sherlock let out a frustrated grunt.

 

“Harder John,” he demanded.

 

The doctor brought the belt down harder. It made a cracking noise as it came in contact with Sherlock’s jeans. Sherlock gasped and pulled hard on the sheets. 

 

After a few more hits Sherlock was panting and gasping. He wasn’t fighting the belt. In fact, he seemed be leaning into it’s blows.  

 

Sherlock had idea why he was enjoying it. Each blow caused a wave of pain to overtake him. He couldn’t stop wondering why he was enjoying this. This was just what Lestrade had done to him. Wasn’t it? No. John would stop if he asked him to. This wasn’t the same thing.

 

Spanking was something lots of loving couples done. It was perfectly healthy. There was nothing wrong with it.

 

It was only then that Sherlock realized he was crying. He let out little whimpers as tears streamed down his face. 

 

He knew John was only doing this because he had asked but he knew he deserved it. He had stolen and lied. He had made John worry about him. He deserved to be punished. He deserved everything he was getting.

 

The blows stopped. Sherlock could feel the belt resting against his back.

 

“Are you ever going to steal my pills again?” John asked. “Or lie to me again.”

 

“Sometimes lying to you is required,” Sherlock answered in a shaky voice.

 

Apparently that was not the right thing to say. John quickly brought down five more hits. Sherlock cried out at each hit. They were harder than any of the other hits.

 

“I won’t!” Sherlock yelled when the blows finally stopped. “I’ll never lie to you again!”

 

“Good,” John said setting the belt down on the bed. “I don’t want to have to do this again.”

 

Sherlock relaxed into the mattress as he let his sobbing over take him. Every bit of stress he’d felt in the last few weeks slipped from his body. 

 

“Oh Sherlock,” John said pulling him up into a hug. “It’s going to be alright. Just let it out.”

 

“Thank you John,” his friend said as he collected himself. “I needed that.”

 

“Of course darling,” he said running a hand through his hair. “I’ll give you anything you need.”

 

John hoped that it was what Sherlock needed and that he was making everything worse.

  
  



	20. Chapter 20

Sherlock felt odd after asking John to spank him. At first, it seemed like a good idea. He had really loved how it made him feel. It made him feel loved. It made him feel like John cared about him and wanted him to feel safe.

 

He could tell it made John uncomfortable. The next day John kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye when he thought Sherlock wasn’t watching. He didn’t like the fact that he had made John uncomfortable. 

 

He tried to sleep that night but he found it too hard. So many thoughts were flying through his mind. 

 

He was a victim of sexual assault.

 

The longest friendship in his life was a  **lie** . 

 

That was what hurt the most. Greg Lestrade his best friend or at least he thought he was his best friend. It had been a lie. He was never his friend. He just kept him around and was nice to him so that he wouldn’t talk. 

 

It was all an act. 

 

_ What if other people in his life were pretending to like him as well? _

 

Was that why he had John spank him? Was he testing him? Did he love him enough to give him the things he needed?

 

He felt like he couldn’t trust anyone.

 

Sherlock glanced over at his clock and saw that it was a bit past three in the morning. There was no point in lying there and trying to sleep. He would never fall asleep when his head was so jumbled with thoughts. He needed to clear his head. 

 

He climbed out of bed and started getting dressed. He didn’t how late it was, he needed to get out.  He reached into the closet and removed a small bag from the bottom of his closet. He pulled out his mobile and set a quick text off to John. He didn’t want his friend worrying about him.

 

Sherlock threw the small bag over his shoulder before walking out of the flat.

 

\--

 

Sherlock was a bit embarrassed about where he was going. Since he wasn’t allowed to indulge in drugs he needed to find a new way to vent when he was stressed or bored. To his surprise, he found exercising to be a great fix. 

 

He didn’t really like the idea of people knowing he was very into exercising. He just didn’t seem like the type of person to have a gym membership. 

 

The detective liked going in the middle of the night when the gym was pretty empty. He changed into his workout clothes and locked his belongings away in his locker. He put his earbuds in and jumped onto the first free treadmill. 

 

As the music began to flood his ears and his legs began to move he forgot about his troubles. He would run for an hour or so and then be ready to go get some sleep. 

 

\--

 

John yawned as he was awoken by the sound of Rosie crying. He wasn’t used to being awoken by the child. Sherlock usually got up in the morning to tend to her. The doctor got out of bed and changed his daughter. 

 

Once his child was in a new outfit he headed downstairs to get her breakfast ready. He planned on checking on Sherlock as well. Perhaps the man had just overslept. It would do the man some good. He could use all the rest he could get.

 

John placed the child in her playpen and walked around to Sherlock’s bedroom. 

 

“Are you awake?” he asked knocking on the door. 

 

No reply came from behind the wooden door. John opened the door and looked inside. He was surprised to find Sherlock’s bed empty. He moved to check the bathroom. No sign of him.

 

John quickly headed for his mobile and opened it. Maybe he had sent him a message. He felt a wave of relief when he saw a message.

 

**Need some space. Don’t worry. I’ll be good.**

**SH**

 

John smiled and closed his phone. He was going to have to trust that Sherlock was taking care of himself.

 

“I guess I’m feeding you breakfast,” John said looking down at his daughter. “I guess you won’t mind that.”

 

Rosie giggled at her father before she started playing with some of her blocks. John walked into the kitchen and began to prepare her breakfast.

 

\--

 

Sherlock lost track of time as he ran on the treadmill. Whenever he came there to exercise his mind was always washed clean of all its problems. It was six in the morning before he removed himself from the machine.

 

The detective headed back to the dressed room and sent off another message to his friend. 

 

**Will be home soon.**

**SH**

 

John would be rising soon to take care of Rosie. He felt bad about leaving the job to his boyfriend. Afterall, it was usually Sherlock who took care of her in the morning. Yet, he needed some time to think. He knew John wouldn’t give him a hard time for it. 

 

He could trust John. He would trust John with his own life. The two of them had a bond no one could shake.

 

He kept saying that to himself over and over as he headed into the locker rooms. 

 

Sherlock sat down on one of the benches and relaxed against the wall. His body was burnt out from the lack of sleep and the hours of exercise. He rested his head against the wall. 

 

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to close his eyes for a moment. The gym would start getting busy in a few hours and someone would wake him. 

 

He knew he should send a message to John. The doctor would start to worry if he didn't show up soon. Yet, he didn't touch his mobile. He couldn't find the energy to move. 

 

Yes, a bit of sleep of would do him good. He didn’t think he had the energy to flag down a cab and get home. The detective sighed deeply before closing his eyes. 

_ Just a bit of sleep.  _


End file.
